Eclipsed
by Krahae
Summary: What would you do, for love? Would you race into the heart of darkness? Embrace madness? Jeopardize everything and everyone, just for one more chance? Setsuna knows more about those things than her companions realize. But they'll understand soon...
1. Say It Right

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter One: Say It Right

–

Ranma looked up at the darkening skies with a wry smile on his lips. It wasn't a happy expression, anymore than it was a sad one. It simply was. "Eh, kinda figures, really," he noted, making no move to take the large bamboo umbrella from his equally large pack. The rain came a few minutes later, and as the change washed over the cursed youth, the suddenly shorter redheaded girl didn't even break her stride.

"May as well leave Nerima the same way I got here."

–

She might be leaving Nerima, but Ranma knew well that the things there that had finally gotten too dangerous to ignore were only symptoms, not the problems themselves. It was a lesson Tofu had managed to impart, before his absence, but one she was understanding better by the day. There were too many mistakes there, too many reminders that she'd been playing at being an adult in a deadly game with the outlook of a child, for far too long. Her situation only threw fuel on that fire, as so much of it revolved around her. Soon, someone was going to cross a line, and then there would be blood on their hands. Ranma was frankly surprised it hadn't happened already, with as many people calling out for someone or another's death, but didn't linger on such thoughts. Irony liked to play havoc with her life enough already.

Distance would make those situations harder to come by. They wouldn't cease, of course, of leave her alone, but even small progress was progress.

One of the things that haunted the martial artist's life stood before her, an umbrella held over his own head to ward off the damning rain. "Saotome."

Red hair bobbed slightly, barely a bow as she grew closer, her stride unfaltering. "Hibiki."

When they were just a few paces apart, the taller boy loosed a gusty sigh. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Chuckling darkly for a moment, Ranma shrugged as she paused, the rain ignored as it soaked her clothes and hair. Despite the water running in rivulets down her face and along her skin, she showed very little notice. "There's a difference between losing, giving up, and refusing to fight a pointless battle."

The Hibiki boy's eyes narrowed fractionally. "So you are giving up, then."

Annoyance flashed through blue eyes, before it faded as quickly as it had appeared. A faint haze of chilled air rose from her skin, as she stared the boy in her way down, despite her smaller stature. "There's no honor in winning any of those fights, Hibiki. Pops saw to that. And don't you start," she warned when the young man opened his mouth, a quarrelsome expression on his face. "Got no right to say a word, with what you did. What you still do."

Ryoga looked ready to argue the point, before shaking his head tersely. "I'm not going to apologize."

"Then you're proving yourself to be just as honorless as you always accused me of being," the redhead replied with a glacial calm, before continuing on her way.

The growling rumble of the Hibiki boy's voice behind her didn't stall her steps. "Ranma..."

"Grow up, Ryoga. Lying to 'em both is only gonna cause them pain. What's that compared to your fear?"

"I'm not afraid!"

A single blue eye regarded him over the shorter girl's shoulder. "Then you better get a move on, pig-boy, to go say hello. She'll get home anytime now, and find my letter."

Ryoga paled almost white as a sheet, before taking an uncertain step in a random direction. "You... you wouldn't! You made a promise!"

Ranma laughed, a loud, barking, bitter sound. "And that's just what I'm talking about. Honor this, honor that. Use my honor against me, to hide and play the coward, while I stain Akane's by letting you get away with it, and Akari's too. Nah, I'm done with all these games, Hibiki." Waving over her shoulder, Ranma refused to look back as she walked on, as Ryoga found himself rooted in place, yelling at her incoherently, his fear of getting lost warring with his fear of what could be in Ranma's threatened letter, and his rage at the currently-redhead. The rain kept him from lashing out, knowing well that even with her massive pack, Ranma was a faster fighter that would capitalize on the rain to reduce him to his piglet form.

Like any good tactician, Ranma knew her opponent, and so knew all that as well. "When you're done growing up, I'll be waiting! So go train and get stronger!" She yelled back at the figure in the rain.

Checking one of the newer additions to her wardrobe, Ranma nodded. She was still on time. Jumping, she kicked off of a nearby lamp-post, using it to clear the distance to the roof above. Once there, she dashed along the upper reaches, intent on making it to her goal in Minato Ward before sundown.

–

Mamoru slept. Mamoru dreamed.

Being who and what he was, the young college student was used to having odd dreams. They came with the territory really. Dark Kingdoms, reborn fiancees, ancient evils, annoying foes... all these had featured in his dreaming at some time or another. Sometimes, they gave him warnings, showing him what to expect, to plan for. Other times, they were used against him, assaulting his mind for some end or another. He'd even used the tactic against himself, if what he understood was correct.

So, it was no surprise to feel the familiar sensation of his dream changing, becoming something it wasn't just a moment before due to some outside source. Unlike before, however, the man sometimes known as Tuxedo Mask didn't detect the bite of malicious intent in the change. Quite the opposite, really, as his dream of class bled away, leaving him feeling secure, safe, warm and comforted.

The transition from sitting at a desk to laying in the grass didn't register to him, though the warm lap and hand in his hair, as fingers slowly ran through it, did. It was an almost cliché backdrop he found, with a towering tree in full leaf, the sound of birds chirping, singing, flying above. There were sounds of other things as well, but those hints didn't make him paranoid at their source, or wary. "Natural noises," the man decided, with something like instinct guiding him. All around him, things were peaceful. As they should be.

Looking up at the first thing to gain his attention, the young man paused. Mamoru blinked, then strained his eyes without effect. Whoever the woman was whose lap he inhabited, he couldn't focus on her face, or anything about her really for that matter. He knew she was there, knew she could be seen clearly in some way that only knowing in dreams worked, but his eyes denied him. What he could make out made him wonder slightly, as he'd never had good experiences with redheads, with Beryl being the biggest reference against them. Definitely not what he expected out of a pleasant dream.

"You have betrayed my trust."

Liquid ice crawled down the man's spine at those words, and all the warmth in the idyllic, grassy glen faded like so much morning mist. Behind the fleeing sense of life, all that remained was a glassy, frozen wasteland. Spires of dirty, lifeless, jagged ice shot with stone and sod blasted up from the ground, rising like a forest grown in an instant as far as the eye could see, while the air grew thin and wasted, making him gasp at how it bit at his lungs.

"You have broken your vow."

The sun grew bitter and harsh above, as the water in the air was drawn into brief flurries of ice and snow. Shifting like dunes across the rime-glassed ground, the snow shifted in from the harsh winds that scoured the land. The scene before the young man reminded him of something he'd seen... something that didn't fill him with such dread and foreboding. He knew this place, but the last time he'd seen it, it filled him with wonder and hope, not cold anticipation.

"This is the future you seek."

Mamoru opened his mouth to deny it, but those words stopped, dying in his throat as a distant light glinted from the near distance. How he'd missed the citadel, the towers, the arching byways and vast walls, all made of polished crystal he'd never know. It was a familiar and welcome sight in the desolation he was laying in, the transition between idyllic Eden and hellish waste taking only the blink of an eye. Recognizing where he was finally, Mamoru made to sigh in relief, but the air froze in his lungs as the woman above him placed her hand on his chest.

"This death is the repayment you'd give me?"

Transfixed by the sudden, suffocating, enveloping sense of absolute malice from the woman, Chiba could do nothing as the vision shifted. Crystal Tokyo, the future home he shared with his destined one, crumbled like a sandcastle in the surf. As the image melted away, so did the ice and the snow that layered and blew across the ground. Gentle grasses, small trees, and all manner of living things shimmered into being, from where the desolate waste had just a moment before been. Despite the returning life, Chiba couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that settled on him like a great weight. Glancing around, Mamoru could see no trace of Crystal Tokyo.

"I deny you that so-called destiny."

In a distortion resembling heat-haze, a vast metropolitan sprawl came into view, but this was no Tokyo he knew. Overgrown with the encroaching wilderness that teemed beyond the concrete and pavement, it looked like something from a post-apocalyptic movie. Animals and – were those _youma?_ – loitered, mingled, grazed, hunted through those broken towers. People were there, sparser, but also clearly recognizable. Cars still ran, but they looked different. People still milled, but they didn't shy away from the grip of nature. Hardier, hardened, clearly survivors, the humans he saw seemed more in tune with their world. A part of it.

"Her will cannot stay me, any longer."

The fingers against his chest stabbed down with savage strength, robbing Chiba of the strength to scream as something basic, primal, fundamental was gripped from within him. Pain hazed his vision, and for a moment, he could recognize the figure above him, or at least recognize the feel of the woman. Though he'd never seen her face, the word _mother_ sprang to the beleaguered man's lips, just as the figure closed her fist around his heart.

"I reclaim what is mine."

Only it wasn't his heart, and he wasn't bleeding when is eyes fell to the expected wound. That hand that phased, ghostlike through his ribs, didn't grip something _physical_. With slow deliberation, that limb was drawn forth, and with it things within Mamoru's mind grew taught, strained, and snapped. Memories flashed vividly through his mind's eye, recollections of the Silver Millennium, the vows he swore on the oddly auspicious day when he was granted the mantle of Guardian of Earth, despite being male. Memories of war and strife, of the Empire that had come before the peace, and the bargain he'd made with the Serenity of that era. They all came, blazed vividly, then faded to nothing.

Peace, from Earth, and all it cost was the death of it's former Guardian, and the marriage to another. Knowledge of the planet's condition, the power he once inexpertly wielded but jealously guarded, and the future he'd been denied and promised once more fled before the strain. White light and the sound of heavy rain were all that remained, after the golden, glowing shard of something precious left him, cradled in the mysterious woman's palm. Faintly, Mamoru Chiba – physics major, orphan, and wholly normal Tokyo citizen now – thought he could hear the sound of a woman crying out in loss and anger.

Writing it off as a trick of his dreaming mind, the young man looked up at the unfamiliar woman above him, seeing her sky-blue eyes full of pain and determination. "Are... who are you?" He asked, suddenly feeling the tension that he couldn't place or recall gripping him, wash away.

With a kindly smile, the woman shook her head slowly. "Just a memory," she replied with a tired sigh. A gesture dismissed the befuddled form from her presence, leaving her alone once more in a vast wilderness, seemingly a part of it, yet its center. Staring at the golden crystal in her hand, her fist clenched, the determination in sky-colored eyes flaring once more.

"You... are released from your service.

–

The warehouse was old, somewhat run-down with its broken upper windows, rusted siding, and weather-blackened wood, but to Ranma, it was a more welcome sight than any she'd seen in a long while. Sighing in relief when she noted the car parked nearby, the redhead hurried up alongside, waving and yelling a greeting.

The window rolled down, revealing a bored looking man in a suit, who seemed rather displeased by the weather. Smiling regardless, Ranma offered a slight bow. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not a problem," the man inside remarked, his eyes scanning her for a moment. "You're Ranma Saotome's sister?"

Nodding, the martial artist didn't miss a beat. "Ranko. Yeah, he's dealing with the rain right now."

"That's fine," the estate agent allowed, shrugging noncommittally. The martial artist was relieved that her directions had been followed, from when she – at the time in her birth form – had visited the estate office. A simple disclaimer that allowed Ranma's 'sister' to sign documents for him had been easy to get, and there had been ideas percolating in the cursed boy's mind about how to use such things to his advantage... shaking off those notions along with some rainwater, the redhead scratched out a signature, and received a waxed and sealed packet in return. Opening it on the spot, she scanned the documents and contents within, nodding. "Thanks, I'll make sure Ranma gets these." She didn't mind that the man barely nodded in reply, before he rolled up his window and pulled off.

Glancing back across the street at the dilapidated warehouse, a happy smile lit the redhead's face. "Home sweet home."

Grabbing her pack as she ran back across the street, Ranma dug the set of keys from the estate packet, unlocking the front door. Though she was soaked to the bone, and her pack little better, the martial artist regardless toed off her shoes and offered the empty building a cheery greeting. "I'm home!"

The echo that answered pulled a chuckle from her. Breathing in the musty air with a great sigh, she settled the overlarge umbrella beside the door, and pulled open the massive pack she'd been carrying. Rifling around a moment, she pulled a wooden plaque from her backpack, unwrapping the worn white Gi that it had been packed with. With an unpleasant smile, she dusted the thing off from the dirt that had carried over from the Gi, before setting it beside the door where it would stay dry. It was a familiar thing, easily recognized from her travels with her father when younger, as they'd visited many dojo's in their time. More recently, there had been the Dojo Destroyer incident, where a frankly monstrous man had come to claim the Tendo dojo tile, which would have effectively closed the dojo.

There was no rule or law for such a thing, but the practice of challenging a dojo for their tile was an old tradition, and to lose one in that challenge said much about those that practiced there. Defeating a School's master was almost a guarantee, once knowledge spread, that students would depart for other Schools with unblemished records. Other dojo's would lose respect for the defeated School, as clearly their master had proven in their defeat, that the title may have been false. Such things were high insult, in the world of martial arts. Regardless, a dojo and School whose tile had been taken often fell into obscurity, unless their master could reclaim their honor.

Ranma ran her fingers along the worn, smooth wood. "Tendo School of Musabetsu Kakutō," she read quietly, her lips quirking slightly. She mused on what the slab of wood represented, looking around the vast, empty space that the warehouse provided. There was now one less School of Anything Goes, with the Tendo branch's fate in her hands. In her minds eye, she envisioned tatami mats, polished floors, and her own dojo tile.

With a familiar smirk, she took up a bedroll and started on the way to the second floor. It'd been a busy day. A little sleep would be welcome. "It's one way to join the Schools, I suppose."

"Just not the way they were planning on."

–

AN: Not going to be a lot of these. Notes, I mean. Chapter length will bounce around. You better pay attention to that warning at the top. When this warms up... well. You were warned. And I ain't gonna repeat myself.


	2. Riddles Covered In Flowers

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Two: Riddles Covered in Flowers

–

_It was that dream, again._

"Empire fleet breaking off from the _Grace_, Guardian."

_She knew this one. It had come a few times, along with others. Hazy thing, but this time, it hit with the strength of memory. There was a fleeting, final moment of dissociation before the perspective shifted, and she was herself again. Her dream self. Her memory._

At the tactical officer's announcement, she regarded the massive display before her, as it played out the situation in the Sol System in real-time. Despite her smaller stature, the figure perched within the command chair exuded a sense of capability and authority, granted by years of experience. Her uniform was archaic, resembling a stylized rendition of ancient armors, meshed with modern technologies. Despite the revealing cut, appropriate reinforcement was clearly seen, the overall effect only adding to and clearly defining and her shapely form. From a mantle that fastened below modest shoulder armor, a draped cape bearing her standard rested, currently obscured by her posture and the chair she sat upon. Below the faux breastplate, a skirting of riveted material reached to her lower thighs, bringing to mind archaic legions on the march. Around her feet and reaching up to where her elbows rested on her knees, heavy metal boots were worn, in the same accents in color the rest of her uniform shared. Black hide-like leather for the pliable sections, gold-accented steel for the armor, with accents in black lacquer in delicate scrollwork.

Within the nervous center of the technological behemoth that was her ship, Kinuran appeared like a figure from myth, wholly out of place. If that knowledge brought her any discomfort, it could not be seen in her stormy blue eyes, watching hawk-like below blood-hued bangs as data played out before her.

The display that held her attention was impressive, by even Empire standards. It was as large as a small ship in its own right, projected by the many arrays of tuned crystals below, which were in turn linked to a mind-share of her home planet's most talented mentalists, slaved to the ship's core itself. The luminous field spun in miniature, showing every detail of the star system in three dimensions, in a dizzying display of data.

From the bridge of her cloaked and waiting carrier-dreadnaught, _Pandemonium_, the Guardian looked on at the war, represented by those blinking false stars on a field of data and noise. A war she was losing, to a foreign, upstart, pampered bitch of a 'Queen' with more power than humanity, and a penchant for reducing unruly planets to so much interstellar scree. Marshaling her thoughts, she spoke with a dulcet voice into the quiet of her bridge, "ETA for enemy fleet to make contact with the Nemesis gravity well?"

The tactical station went silent, and another voice answered shortly. "Course as stated," the officer confirmed, though she knew that already. "Fifteen arcs, Guardian."

Blue eyes blinked once below an untidy fall of blood red bangs. "Barely enough time to make a snack and enjoy the show," she commented with false levity, leaning back in the command chair that perched above the many nerve centers of her ship. The attempt at humor left her feeling like she'd swallowed ash, and the woman said a small prayer of apology for her words. It truly wasn't the time to be making jokes.

She looked to the display as it shifted with her will, showing the _Grace_ situated above the orbit of shattered Ceres, now no more than a spread of ice and stone rubble floating between her homeworld Terra and Mars. "Deceptively pretty," she mused to herself, as the false satellite that had no business in her home system reflected the sun's light in a spray of silver. The spherical flagship was massive, thousands of times larger than the _Pandemonium_, and nearly as large as Saturn's moon Titan. It was the marvel of the Silver Empire, and the mobile throne of its exalted Queen.

She wanted nothing more than to see it wiped from the face of the universe, cracked in half and shattered like so much glass, spilling its cargo of murderers into space to freeze and die in the cold, merciless, uncaring void.

Silencing those thoughts and reining in her anger, she tracked the fleet departing from the _Grace_, reducing its cloud of defending ships to a more reasonable twenty-five percent of that which had accompanied it into the Sol System. "Comms, open secure channel to the _Erebus_."

"Online, Guardian."

Relaxing in her chair, the redheaded figure let a slight smile bend her lips, as the image of a regal, tall, beautiful woman with emerald hair and deep red eyes winked in to existence before her. The figure was clad in in a similar uniform, its colors muted in grays, black, and the occasional accent in green. Upon her back, her mantle clearly displayed the icon of her station – a stylized key bisecting an hourglass. "Guardian of Time," Kinuran greeted formally, bowing her head slightly.

"Guardian of Life," the image stated, echoing her sign of respect. "You have news, Kinuran?"

The warmth left the redhead's expression at knowing what had to be done. The usual happiness at seeing the woman before her had become tempered with their ongoing war, and recently... recently things had not been going well for them. Regardless, she had news to share, and needed to coordinate their efforts. Warmth could be rediscovered when and if this war ended. Cold determination remained, and a grim stillness once the woman settled her thoughts. "Your sister is due some visitors, soon. They come bearing gifts."

"I... see," the image mumbled, before shaking slightly. "So her bait has been taken, and the trap set. I... I will let Tenebrae know that her gambit is a success."

For a long moment the two simply stared at one another, sharing silence in the knowledge that one of their fellow Guardians would soon be sacrificing herself to protect the rest of the System. Kinuran, as the redhead had been named, stirred from her reverie first. "The evacuation went as planned, Setsuna. At least we managed that much."

"It's not enough," the image replied with a hoarse rasp, clearly unable to mask her pain at the knowledge that their plan would soon be coming to fruition. A plan that would see her sister dead. Gathering herself, the Guardian of Time stood tall once more, though Kinuran could clearly see the war going on in the other woman's eyes. "I need to go to her. I will remain on Nemesis until it is time."

She wanted to scold the woman for the unnecessary risk, but knew better than to stand between family, even with the war that threatened them all looming. Her own fondness for the emerald-haired Guardian warred with her desire to let her comfort her kin. She had left a sister and mother on Terra when the war began, letting her duty drive her life since the invaders had come, and so understood Setsuna's desire. For that reason, even more so because of the bond between herself and the woman before her, she would keep her silence. She didn't expect everyone else to conform to her ideal of duty.

A different silence and distance spread between them, one she found she hated. "I know," she offered quietly, her expression losing the edge it had borne. "She will pay, Setsuna. You have my word. If not in this life, then the next. I will never let the crimes she's committed go unrepaid," Kinuran promised, blue eyes flashing with her own mix of emotions – hatred and determination. "We start once Tenebrae's gambit has begun. With seventy-five percent of her precious firepower denied her, the bitch-Queen won't be able to stand before the combined Terran and Saturnal fleets. The _Grace_ will fall."

"Will it be enough?" Pluto's Guardian asked, her fractured calm clear to the other woman, even through the imperfect transmission. "I wish we had more allies, still," Setsuna lamented, leaning heavily on her keyed staff, as the transmission flickered slightly. "I still can't believe the Sol Senate capitulated so easily."

"No one wants another Ceres," Kinuran replied, shaking her head slowly. "The Empire is using our fear of that against us, pushing us into exactly the positions they want. They don't want a war here either, after all – it drains precious resources."

Setsuna looked away, still clearly troubled. "...Do you hate them? The other worlds that went to her side?"

Shaking her head, Kinuran smiled ruefully. "No. If they turned their weapons on Terra, and threatened her, I'd lay down for my execution without pause," she admitted, getting a nod from her fellow Guardian. "I wouldn't join her, however. I can't forgive what she did. Like her so-called 'Inner' Guardians, she would be forced to replace me."

"Guardian," Kinuran rolled the word over her tongue slowly. "It is what we are, but there's a point when to protect, we have to do nothing. I just hope I can black her eye a few more times before I have to go that route." Rousing herself from such thoughts, she continued more forcefully. "Until that time however, I will continue to lead this little rebellion of ours. Terra was the cradle out of which we all came, after all," she noted with a rueful smile. "I have to protect the rest of you, too."

"Cocky," Setsuna accused, getting a pleased nod in return. "I just hope what we do here ends up meaning more than a pointless holding action," Time's Guardian mused, clearly unsettled by the impending death of her sister. "I know the Empire looks very critically on failure, but will it be enough to rattle _her_ off the throne?"

Kinuran shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not. But I can't do anything else, without my conscious calling me coward. Even Terra herself demands I act," she admitted, to the native Plutonian's surprise.

In the silence that stretched out between them the redheaded Guardian let her gauntleted fingers drum a tattoo on the armrest of her command station, an unnamed itch clawing at her consciousness. For a moment, she wondered if there was something terrible occurring on Terra, but dismissed that notion. Such a thing would be much more... obvious. She blinked slowly, as that itch bloomed into a sense of impending danger that welled up in the back of her mind like cloying fog. "Tactical," she barked, startling the the other Guardian, still present via holographic transmission. "Full sensor scan, immediate area!"

Red warning lights almost immediately flared, telling her all she needed to know. Tactical called out that a defold wave-sign was growing, far too close to their current position for it to be coincidence. "We were betrayed," Kinuran muttered, clenching her fist until the gauntlet she wore creaked.

Setsuna was staring away from her, ordering her own fleet into action. Sparing her companion a glance, she asked, "Who? How could they do this without me knowing?"

"Likely one of the other Guardians," Kinuran replied wearily, as the tactical display resolved itself before her. "That would be the only way to foil the Gates and blind you."

"Crafty witch," the image muttered, as she returned her attention to the _Pandemonium's_ commander. "We've evaded their scouts, here. We'll regroup to throw their information off."

"Hide in Charon's gravity well, for now," she murmured, getting a nod in reply. Kinuran read the news on the display with a slow frown, and a rapid eye. "Five fighter wings, two destroyer-class ships, likely some stealthed bombers at distance, and a support frigate." Threatening, but not critically so. After all, The Witch wouldn't risk her bindings to one of her replacement Senshi by allowing them to junction a ship like she had. Turning again to her command stations, she began issuing orders, "Keep us cloaked, and out of lock. Let the support wings draw them in, and give them some false confidence in their impending win. Order them to work a defensive retreat. I want all docked interceptor wings primed for ballistic launch. Contact the _Quietus_ – call in some scramblers from Saturn's fleet and tight-beam them folding coordinates behind the enemy's position once we've engaged – if they're going to take us on, I want them blind, deaf, and mute." Seemingly forgetting herself for a moment, the redhead turned to her holographic companion. "Suna, I need some Interdictors. If they're going to bare their teeth at me, they're not going to run away if we're harder targets than they expected. Can I count on you?"

Setsuna smiled. "Always, Kin."

Terra's Senshi winked at the other Guardian, dismissing the thought that her slip had been just that. "Thank you. Once the support wings are fully engaged, launch all our fighters, and have them flank the enemy and keep them pinned in," she continued, as her bridge crew rushed around like a kicked anthill, following her orders. "I want them on the defensive as soon as they're in range! Once we've got them thinking about saving their worthless hides, drop the _Pandemonium_ out of stealth and into siege mode, and have the fleet break off while the unmanned interceptors, Interdictors, and Saturn's sensory warfare platforms keep them locked down," she continued, getting a few panicked looks from her crew. "Those zealot murderers like to spout off about their Queen's light? Fine! They can burn to death in the radiance of the _Aurora Ominae_."

Setsuna's eyes widened at that. "The _Aurora_...? But you'll have to lock your ship down to fire it! You'll be a sitting target!"

"One they'll find," Kinuran smiled nastily, "very, _very_ hard won."

Clearly unhappy at the risks her companion had settled on taking, the other Guardian regardless saluted silently with her staff. It was time for action, now, not words. "To the fall of Serenity," the emerald-haired woman said, in their now-customary farewell since the war had begun.

Kinuran returned the salute with her combat gauntlet, raised in a tight fist. "To the fall of Serenity," the redhead echoed, as she began the effort to coordinate with the Saturnal fleet, to rout the Empire's attempt to keep their attention occupied and off the tempting target that was Serenity's flagship.

–


	3. Break The Cutie

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Three: Break The Cutie

–

The first night at the warehouse had been cold, damp, and disturbingly quiet without the sounds of a houseful of people present, which is what Ranma blamed her strange dreams on. "Damn. No more sci-fi manga for me before bed," she groused, shaking off the odd images that clung to her, as the dream became a haze of indistinct memories.

Despite the odd dream, Ranma regardless woke refreshed and in a good mood for the coming day. Though, the redhead mused as she wrinkled her nose at herself, she really needed to get the utilities turned on. Gas for the stove and heat weren't so important, and electricity for the lights would be needed in time, but hot water was something the martial artist really would rather not do without. She'd need to stop by a public bath before scho-

A fierce banging sounded from the front of the building, making the currently-female Saotome groan in annoyance and recall why she was awake half an hour earlier than planned. Eying the broken window, letting the last remnants of the previous night's rain blow in with the wind, Ranma estimated it to be just past seven AM. Regardless, she rolled to her feet and dashed down to the main floor, hopping from the open second-floor balcony that overlooked what had once been the production and storage space. Looking back up, she grinned, her mind's eye filled with plans for what to do with the half-floor upper story that had been the offices of the warehouse. As Ranma painted her imaginations visions on the warehouse she now owned, the banging sounded again, louder this time.

Expression falling, the redhead heaved a sigh and stomped over to them. "In a hurry I guess," she muttered, easily making out the grumbling voices from the other side. "Only been a day. No sense, I swear."

Throwing open the great doors, she glared out at the small mob waiting for her, silencing them. "Kinda early. Lets make this quick," she muttered, turning back to the the inner space and walking to stand in the center, affecting a bored expression.

Filing into the massive space, the combined Tendo and Saotome families entered, craning their necks as they took in the building Ranma had moved to. Said martial artist had no illusions on why they were here, however. "So, who's it gonna be? I need to get to my new school and fill out some paperwork, and still need breakfast, so lets get this done."

Faces bearing various emotions turned to her voice, and she cataloged them without much effort. Genma and Soun were their usual mirrors – when the Tendo wasn't trying to resemble a spigot. Righteous anger and determination were written clearly on their faces. Ranma mentally sighed, "Nothing new there," she noted, dismissing them without further attention. What little respect she'd had for the men had been destroyed in the two years since arriving in Nerima.

Kasumi seemed genuinely curious about the warehouse, though her posture was slightly slumped, and her expression more closed than Ranma had ever recalled. She felt somewhat ambiguous about Kasumi, in truth. Sure, she was kind, helpful, and generally good-natured, but her habit of being selectively blind and willfully oblivious placed her right next to Genma and Nodoka in the realm of the delusional. The world was not sugar-coated, nor were the issues that surrounded their families so minor as to be written off without a care. Ranma decided it wasn't worth thinking on further – Kasumi wasn't his responsibility, and if she was distressed, it was _only_ distress, after all. It would be good for the girl to wake up. She had no honor to defend, no rivals to constantly think and worry on, and no idiotic contracts held over her. A little shake-up to her ideal world would be a good thing.

On the other hand, Nabiki was a closed book. Ranma noted her quietly making an inventory of the space, and stifled the urge to growl in annoyance. The mercenary Tendo wasn't so bad these days, and they actually got along rather well now after Jusendo and the rebuilding of Nodoka's home. That had gone a long way to make both of them grow up – Ranma, in seeing the other side of the Art, and Nabiki in how her actions could have dire consequences. If not for Ranma's help and intercession with Nodoka, the older woman would have pressed charges, and considering the usual circus Nerima was, things would have escalated far beyond Nabiki's ability to deal with. Ranma had no illusions that if anyone brought the girl to court, it would cause an avalanche of claims to suddenly appear. Though they weren't the best of friends by a long stretch, she still didn't want Nabiki to suffer, or have permanent marks against her in the future. That didn't mean she liked the assessing look in the middle Tendo's eyes, as she took in the redhead's new home.

Nodoka she glanced briefly at, from the corner of her eye, and saw only the woman's stoic, stony expression present. It had been a real blow to her dreams that Ranma had taken the path she had, and obviously the woman was fighting an internal battle about the things that had been said, her reactions, and Ranma's current gender, if the martial artist understood the woman well. Given, she often truly didn't – it was one of the things that caused so much friction between them. Nodoka's concepts of manliness, honor, and her blatant oversight of Genma's faults in the same made Ranma wonder some days if the woman was honestly sane, selectively blind like Kasumi, or just... stupid. Even the fact she could wonder such a thing made a cold knot settle in her stomach.

From his vantage some small distance by the room's center, Happosai looked uncharacteristically grave, betraying the importance of the event. Though he wasn't involved _per se_ in what was to come, it did involve the branch Schools to his Art. Ranma doubted the old man was truly taking things as seriously as the Tendos and Saotomes, though the fact she was using the Soul of Ice to totally suppress her _yin_ ki – the female portion of her energy – probably had a lot to do with his lack of lechery. In the old man's eyes, Ranma knew she was about as appealing as an empty gum wrapper at the moment.

Letting her gaze come full-circle, Ranma finally rested her cooled glare on the other young woman, standing loosely where – if they'd been in a dojo – her opponent would begin from. Akane's demeanor screamed muted anger, resentment, and a myriad of other emotions Ranma couldn't begin to name. The girl's lack of trust, unwillingness to listen, and ambiguous feelings had long-since left Ranma's own reactions to the youngest Tendo dim and pale, which only seemed to further worsen whatever it was they shared. Ranma hesitated to call it friendship, as even she and Ryoga got along better sometimes.

Uncharacteristically, no one seemed to feel fit to say much, so Ranma decided she didn't want to simply stand around and get stared at all day, when she had things to do. "Alright, usual rules-"

"Who said you get to make rules," Akane interrupted, voice dripping with scorn.

Ranma snapped her glare to the girl, who shrank back at the chill that resided there. "_I_ say, since you came to _my_ home. You had your rules at the dojo – this is my dojo, Tendo." Akane further drew back at the formal, cold address without any customary honorific. Sure they had been on bad terms, but this...

"Basic Anything Goes," Ranma continued, her tone returning to a lighter lilt as if she'd not just barked orders at a former fiancee like an unruly dog. "No property damage. Figure you're always claiming to be a martial artist, well, lets see if you got the control to back it up."

"How dare you!"

Snorting, Ranma shook her head slowly, hooking a finger over her shoulder at the still-bruised Soun Tendo. The man clearly was in no shape to fight, after yesterday's challenge and beating at the redhead's hands. "I could say the same. You're not even the master of your dojo, and you're coming here?" Leaning forward, she smiled toothily at the confused girl. "You're insulting my School, Tendo. Why should I bother to accept a challenge from a rank student?"

As expected, it took every iota of strength Soun and Genma had to restrain the flailing girl, as they dragged her off to calm her down, which had been Ranma's goal in her taunting. Sighing gustily as she squatted near the old grandmaster, Ranma voiced her thoughts. "Why'd Soun let her do this? Does he have any clue what he's doing?"

"Those two idiots have one brain cell between them, that they keep paralyzed with beer and sake," Happosai replied with a derisive snort. "Of course he doesn't realize the implications. He figures she'd be his trump card." Shaking his head at that, the old man shooed the redhead off. "Blind fool," he muttered, just loud enough for Ranma to hear as she took her place again.

Ranma wondered if the old man was talking about her, Soun, or maybe even himself. Shrugging the question aside, she met Akane's glare again, giving nothing of her current thoughts away. Happosai seemed to be feeling much the same as his chosen heir, and hopped forward, raising a hand between the girls. "The rules have been set. This is a challenge for the return of the Tendo dojo tile, between the Tendo School and Freeform School of Anything Goes."

Ranma's facade cracked a bit, as her lips curved very slightly at hearing the name of her new branch of the Art spoken. Happosai had been thrilled at the idea, having been less-than-impressed with the progress both Genma and Soun had shown in the spirit of his original Art, compared to her. "But," Ranma reminded herself, "that's not important now." Turning her attention fully to her opponent, she nodded slightly, the barest of bows. Akane bristled, and simply sniffed disdainfully while pulling her nose up in the air a bit further.

"Match will continue to knockout or yield." Happosai noted the apparent readiness of both fighters, before dropping his hand. "Begin!"

Unlike her recent spars, Ranma did not wait for Akane to make the first move. Surprising those there to witness the fight, she dashed forward in a deep sprint that left her torso nearly parallel with the ground. Clearly off-balance from the change in tactic, Akane was caught flat-footed, mid-dash herself, and paid the price when Ranma dumped all her forward momentum into a spin, that she then transferred to a sweeping mid-body kick.

Despite getting her block up hastily, Akane was knocked literally for a loop when the blow connected, tumbling ass-over-teakettle for one long moment, before gravity reasserted itself and pulled her back to Earth with a vengeance. Landing hard on her side, the young girl managed to roll out of her prone position, just avoiding a hard downward axe-kick that Ranma carried through from a forward flip.

Akane's eyes widened as she noted the power behind that blow, as it slammed into the old flooring throwing dust and debris up in a cloud suddenly. Getting her mind back on her opponent, she quickly closed the distance while Ranma was recovering from her overextended effort, hoping to capitalize on the opening she saw.

That opening suddenly vanished, as Ranma flipped back to spin along her shoulders, her legs twisted into a flurry of kicks. Unprepared for the unorthodox attack, Akane's advance stalled, before she adjusted and tried a different tactic. Bracing with her hands, the shorter redhead flipped up into and behind her opponent's weakened and uncertain guard, lashing out with a vicious elbow strike to the kidney, as she took a hit to the shoulder that she essentially ignored in favor of her own strike.

Buckling around the impact, Akane cried out and fell to her hands and knees after her legs simply stopped listening to her. Standing tall above the rapidly-bruising young woman, Ranma rolled her shoulder and spoke, simply, not bothering to mock or belittle her opponent this time. "Do you give up?"

The pain in the Tendo girl's eyes cleared as her ki snapped out angrily, hitting Ranma like a physical thing. Seeing the clear escalation in methods, the currently-redheaded martial artist sighed. Backpedaling a handful steps, Ranma began cycling her ki carefully, the Soul of Ice firmly in place as she built a personal vortex out of her own released aura, utilizing a modified Baguazhang kata with its circular motions to continue and focus the flow.

Akane kipped up with a wince and advanced on the circling Ranma, who's arms snapped about her in coiled, tight, controlled movements, while her feet ran a paced circular path. Not familiar with the form, the incensed Tendo waited for a seeming opening, sensing an apparent pattern in the redhead's movements. With a harsh cry, she delved into her own well of ki, fueled by her rage and anger, to draw on one of the Tendo School's peculiarities – ki weaponry.

Ranma was intimately familiar with the manifestation, jokingly referred to as Mallet-sama by those at Furinkan, though she'd never invested the time in using the technique herself. The reasons had changed over time, though at first it was just the difference in Schools. Her father's branch neglected active weapon use, feeling that relying on any single weapon would limit them. The Saotomes did cross-train in them, to understand and counter those styles however.

Later, once she understood the deeper esoterics of ki, it became clear that such a thing relied heavily on emotional investment. Like Soun's Demonic Visage and Happosai's Titan Body techniques, Akane's weapon drew off her own emotional strength, which after the Hiryu Shoten Ha training from Cologne seemed all but pointless. The Soul of Ice turned those things against their user, much like many soft styles utilized Aiki to turn power against an aggressor. There was one exception to that she'd made, that being her answer to Ryoga's Shi Shi Hokodan, the Moko Takabisha, which she understood now had its own serious drawbacks.

Finally, there was efficiency. Manifesting a ki-weapon like Akane did or body-form like Soun and Happosai took massive amounts of ki. If Ranma wanted the option of weapons on demand like that, she'd prefer to use the Hidden Weapons technique, to conserve her ki, and also the element of surprise. For a short time she'd considered it, as it offered the potential for a surprise attack – she could manifest a sword in a hand that had missed a strike, to increase range, for instance – or a massive power boost. Those would only work against an unaware opponent, however. The build-up point to bringing one's ki and focusing it into a solid form took time and was blatantly apparent to anyone else with a shred of ki-sense. It seemed silly, to use such a weapon against that kind of opponent, and the alternative was blatant overkill – why waste so much ki on a target if they couldn't sense it? Likely they wouldn't even be a threat to her.

Perhaps the thing that made it least attractive to Ranma, was the intent itself. The ki Akane's mallet was formed of hit harder than Ryoga on his best days, which was why it was so dangerous. It was designed and formed out of the intent to harm and punish.

Ranma found the thing an affront to her code as a martial artist.

That was ultimately why she'd challenged Soun to his dojo's tile. Ranma felt the man a travesty to the Art as she saw it, and even the possibility he'd pass on such techniques to students one day filled the Saotome with disgust. He'd failed to teach Akane, his own daughter, the proper use of such a technique, or the dangers of it not only to herself, but others. There had been other reasons, of course – without a School or dojo, the engagement was a moot point after all – but first and foremost that had been Ranma's motivation. Everything else could have been handled differently. It was just coincidence that everything came to a head at the same time really.

As Ranma circled a now-smirking Akane, assured in her victory with the weapon that had never missed a certain Saotome, the redhead wondered how it was that the most immature, uneducated, and backwater of all those in the Wrecking Crew happened to be the only one with any arguable maturity when it came to responsibly using their power and skill. Didn't Akane realize she'd let her land those hits? Did the girl really have that much of an inflated and unrealistic view of her own skills? It was just easier and less of a trial to let Akane work out her anger quickly, than let it stew and simmer. A mistake, she knew, but that was it.

Her kata shifted, giving Akane the opening she wanted, luring the girl in. As the youngest Tendo charged, mallet raised overhead, the grandmaster nearby shook his head sadly. "It's over."

"As it should be," Soun rumbled, nodding only once in apparent agreement until he froze, hearing his master's quiet chuckling.

"I meant for Akane, you fool," the old man accused, taking out his pipe to inspect it, ignoring the match before him. Soun worriedly turned his attention back to his daughter's fight.

In a move reminiscent of their first spar, Ranma neatly sidestepped Akane's swing, doing so in such a way as to clearly say to all there, "_I could have done this anytime._" As the massive thing crashed into and broke through the floorboards, the redhead's eyes narrowed. "Strike one."

Incensed and nearly incoherent with rage, Akane wrenched the weapon up, ignoring the calls for her to calm down and focus from Soun and Genma. "You still aren't taking me seriously!" She accused, her second swing clearly telegraphed, as she leveled it in a cross-body smash that splintered a support beam nearby when Ranma was simply not where she aimed.

"You've never given me reason to," Ranma replied coldly. The air around the martial artist faintly shimmered, as she trailed a brief haze of condensed water, the chill in her ki drawing it out of the atmosphere. "All your wins were from something else, never your own skill. Enchanted armor. Magic food." Quietly, she added to the tally, sparing a glance at the broken beam that had been in Akane's path. "Oh, and strike two."

Hopeful but not a fool because of it, Genma had seen enough. Though it pained him to interfere with a martial arts challenge, he was certainly not above doing so, for his goals. Nor was he above the use of the Sealed styles, when there was much at stake. "The boy will understand in time," he muttered, preparing the rope he'd use to bind him during his match, to allow Akane her strike, ending this farce. "When the dojo's honor is back in Tendo's hands, the Schools can be joined, and retirement will be just around the corner! This is for his own good!" Genma nodded resolutely to himself, as he noted Soun distracting the master. Now was the time.

"Desperate times call for such measures," the bald martial artist thought to himself with much false resignation, too used to such speeches in regard to his son. Fading from awareness with the Umisenken, he made to begin his attack, when a small blur nearby caused him to cringe in fear.

That blur heralded the brief groan and thump that announced Genma's fall from consciousness, as Happosai replaced his pipe. The length of rope in the Saotome man's hands, and Soun's clear distress at their plan being outed spoke volumes about what had nearly happened. They were ignored, however, in favor of what was concluding before them.

Ranma's response basically confirming all of Akane's accusations of the cursed boy never taking her seriously obliterated any control Akane still maintained, and in a blind fury she swung again. Meeting the hammer dead-on, Ranma shattered the construct with a swift counter, incidentally forcing Akane's hands to wrench nastily. Her offense and guard destroyed, she was wide open, as Ranma intoned a quiet, "Strike three."

Only Happosai and perhaps Soun could understand what happened next, as Ranma spun lightly on the ball of a foot, before she stepped into Akane's broken guard, striking her with an open-palm at the center of her mass. The sudden report resembling a gunshot that rang out made more than a few there flinch, as the youngest daughter flew straight back before hitting a wall with a sickening crack. Kasumi and Soun rushed to the unconscious girl's side, as Ranma turned to hide her expression, bile rising at what she'd just done.

"Refining the Hiryuu Shoten Ha into a condensed form," Happosai murmured, having appeared at Ranma's side. "Compressing the cyclone into a point where your strike punches through the opponent's personal aura, creating the funnel at the contact between your own and theirs. Quite ingenious. Quite dangerous, as well."

"Not as dangerous as Tendo's half-assed technique," Ranma bit out tersely, only getting a tired nod in reply. "I warned her. I was gonna go easy until she started smashing up the place."

"As if this compares to what used to happen at home," a voice intruded, resolving itself as belonging to Nabiki as she stood nearby, arms crossed across her chest. She noted Ranma's glare, and looked away. "I wasn't accusing you, Ranma."

The redhead nodded, working to settle her shattered calm. "...I know. Sorry."

Heaving a tired sigh, Nabiki watched as Kasumi and Nodoka worked to set Akane's arm, clearly broken from her impact. Nearby, Soun glared hatefully at the youngest Saotome, ignored as she had her back to the man and what was going on. "Well. I suppose she can't say you never took her seriously anymore."

"If I had," Ranma stated, her eyes glacial pools, "she'd be dead. This was a lesson. Nothing more, nothing less."

Nabiki drew back at Ranma's tone, "And the challenge?"

Happosai snorted angrily. "Soun's made a massive error today. By having Akane, who hadn't earned her mastery fight in his stead as the head of his School, he's been dishonored greatly. I'm debating stripping him of that mastery myself, after this little mess he's stirred up. The honor of my School is on the line, and he's acting a fool. Not that it matters. He doesn't teach, and wastes what honor he's assumed, and now this?"

Nabiki paled, shooting Ranma a glance as she stood impassively nearby. "I suppose this just goes to support your granting Ranma a mastery for him – er, _herself _– doesn't it?"

"I may be old and set in my odd ways, but with the Art, I don't mess around. Those two idiots however, never saw that distinction, and felt that the name of the School meant they could get away with anything they wanted." Shaking his head, the wizened grandmaster huffed angrily. "Anything Goes is based on adaptability, not moral allowance, despite what anyone thinks. I am who I am, because of many things, but the Art has little to do with it.

"The School is based on change and adaptability. That's the blood of my Art," the old man explained to the girl. "Soun's let his supposed branch all but die out, barely teaching Akane more than the basics of two fundamental styles. Then, he lets her loose with a half-finished, deadly, self-destructive ki technique?" Barking a laugh, the old man moved to light his pipe, only to have it snatched away by an annoyed Ranma. "Wha-"

"No smoking inside," she stated, handing the implement back to the now-glaring grandmaster, who was staring pointedly at the many holes in the building letting in shafts of light. "Pops didn't do much better," Ranma continued, over Happosai's grumbling. "He focused on an aerial style, but didn't diversify. We studied literally hundreds of forms and Schools, but he had a _focus_ that he used as a frame to build on, discarding equally useful portions as inferior. That's not what Anything Goes is about, though I didn't learn that till a lot later.

"His Sealed styles weren't even considered as material to improve from, for his School. He just hid them and denied them, like everything else shameful and dishonorable he's done in his life," she snapped, missing the sudden stiffening of Nodoka's back at her words. "Sealed them, but we all saw what happened today. Just like his honor, his word doesn't mean a damn thing when something else comes up he deems more important."

Nodding, Happosai huffed at his heir once before dismissing his annoyance at the cursed youth. "Ranma took Amazon Wu-shu, Musk body refinement, Phoenix ki focusing, among other things, adding them, improving them, and making them a part of her form. She's still got a long way to go, but really, if my students are supposed masters, and Ranma can wipe the floor with them, why shouldn't I honor that?"

Shaking his head, Happosai moved to the center of the space. Though it was largely ceremonial, he indicated Ranma as he spoke. "Match, Ranma Saotome of the Freestyle School of Anything Goes."

It was clear to her nearly everyone had something to say, but Ranma had little patience or time to deal with them after what had just happened. "Alright, everyone – out! I have things to do today like I said! You can come back and harass me later!"

–


	4. Eyes Wide Shut

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Four: Eyes Wide Shut

–

In a place that wasn't really part of the universe that was known, a lone woman watched as the icon of her station flickered, its power drain severely taxing what remained of her planetary binding. Despite this, the woman wore a fierce smile, totally contrary to how the loss of power to the Gates of Time should have affected her.

"It's finally time," she muttered, before addressing the massive portal before her. "Gates, enter administrative mode."

Unlike every other time she'd attempted such a command, there was no counter-sign required by a member of the Serenity bloodline, confirming her earlier theories. Setsuna lost the battle against her rising joy, letting loose a primal yell of triumph as her legacy was finally released to her full control once more. Dim and unsteady, holographic screens appeared around the Gate, awaiting her attention. "Authorization accepted, Guardian Pluto."

Though it pained her, she knew that the coming days would require all the power she could scrape up. It was only a temporary measure, but even knowing such a thing, Setsuna felt like she was betraying a close friend with her next words. And there was of course the temptation to use the Gates to their fullest... but she had waited this long. A little more wouldn't break her, and this... what it meant cascaded over her in an almost erotic feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. She'd _won_. Her gambit had worked. "Initiate emergency power conservation mode."

"Warning," the dulcet tones of the AI chimed at her, "this action will cause a cessation in the higher functions of the Time Gates. Only emergency protocols will remain active. Do you wish to proceed?"

"Yes," the Senshi of Pluto stated, somewhat thickly.

For a moment nothing happened, and then the change that came was nearly anticlimactic. The small panes that offered her detailed and richer data than she'd been able to pry from her legacy for over fifteen-thousand years winked out, as the central display which swirled and writhed in its contained fury, a window into the flow of time itself, dimmed and grew still. "Emergency power conservation mode active," the Gates informed her, the more organic tones of the usual AI now absent in favor of a generic, inflectionless monotone.

"Route all emergency and security notifications to the Key."

"Acknowledged."

With a deep breath, she gave her final order. "Seal Charon Castle. Disable all teleportation into or out of phased space-time. Shutdown all command interfaces, pending reactivation based only on personal authorization, Setsuna Meiou."

There was a tense moment, before the expected response came. "Acknowledged. Restoration of functions available through Key interface. Warning. Temporal and spacial lockdown imminent. Please vacate phased space. You have one minute to comply."

"More than enough time," she murmured, before teleporting back to Earth.

–

Though Ranma planned to make a good first impression at his new school, unlike last time, there were some very serious snags waiting for him, reinforcing the sense of dread that had been creeping up on him since waking up. One of those snags happened to be the woman he had hoped would simply direct him to his class, after finishing up his transfer paperwork.

Setsuna Meiou, however, had other plans. "I have received the transcripts from your former school," the assistant aide explained, while Ranma wondered how someone who looked to be only maybe a handful of years older than him gotten to be in her position. Not that he doubted her ability – she seemed every inch the professional, down to her suit jacket over what looked to be a silk blouse – but she was younger than he'd expected. Pretty, though, he had to admit, even if the dark green hair had given him pause, making the young man think of Amazons. The deep red eyes and light tan only made him more wary, till she began to speak, dismissing any concerns. If anything, the slight European accent she had reassured him the most. Still, there was something familiar about her, and that seemed to quiet – if not dismiss – the buzzing wariness that had been sitting in the back of his mind all day. Something recent... Realizing he was staring, Ranma jerked slightly, catching the end of what the woman was saying. "...and I have to say, some of this is pretty hard to believe."

Rubbing at his face tiredly and to obscure his moment of distraction, the martial artist favored the woman with a weary grin. "Yeah. Who wrote it?"

"Hinako Ninomiya, and your former Principal, Kuno."

Ranma flinched at the mention of Kuno, but wasn't surprised. "Hinako's stuff will be pretty accurate – though she's a bit hung up on her role as a disciplinarian," Ranma mused, adopting a thoughtful posture.

Setsuna browsed that portion of the file, frowning slightly as she read. "She warns that you're a serious disruption, and nightmare to classroom discipline." Peering up over the file, the emerald-haired woman raised a delicate brow. "Should we expect trouble from you, Saotome?"

"Absolutely."

"OK, that's a relief- wait, what?"

Tapping his chin, Ranma missed the double-take he'd just caused. "Well, I guess I should clarify that." Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Setsuna nodded, waving the young man to continue. "Well, you see," Ranma began, before pausing and sighing gustily. "Uh... hey. This stays between us, right?"

Setsuna spared the young man an assessing glance for a long moment. Apparently coming to some kind of decision, she closed the folder before her and picked up a small legal pad. "Academic and disciplinary material go into the files and records, not personal information." She smiled warmly at the clearly uncomfortable young man before her. "Don't worry – nothing you say that doesn't relate to school will go outside this room."

"Well... alright." Ranma took a moment to compose himself, before continuing quietly. "Best way to explain is to say my Pops is a thief."

Setsuna blinked owlishly, before leaning forward, as if to better hear. "...he's a criminal?"

Backpedaling, Ranma waved his hands before him, but then stopped with a thoughtful expression. "Well... yeah probably. But that's not the point I was trying to make. See, he had this bad habit of making deals and backing out of them."

"So he was a con man."

Ranma scratched at his braid nervously. "Yeah. The problem was he'd use me to con people."

Surprise marked the young woman's features. "You were his accomplice?"

"No! Er, oh man," slumping, Ranma tugged sharply on his braid, trying to focus his thoughts on what he meant to say. "Let me give you an example. While we were traveling, my old man met this chef, who worked out of a _yatai_."

"A vending cart," Setsuna supplied, getting a nod in return.

"Right," the martial artist agreed. "Well, I was getting real close to the chef's kid, since both of us were being trained by our fathers to be martial artists. Pops liked having the food while we were on the move, but didn't like the idea of us being tied down, and saw an opportunity, so he took it. Short version, he made a deal with the chef. He'd engage me to his kid, in exchange for the _yatai_."

Setsuna finished the note on her pad, and nodded. "A verbal agreement, with a dowry, more or less."

"Only Pops never meant to go through with it," Ranma reminded. "The cook let Pop's tab go, which I guess was part of why he made the deal. Old man could eat his weight a few times over, in a day. Little while later, he realized the cook was good enough to catch him if he tried to just take off, so he asked me to choose – the girl, or the food."

"And how old were you?"

"Six," Ranma explained with a wry look. "And I didn't know that the cook's kid was a girl, then, or the arrangement even." Seeing the woman's disbelieving look, Ranma rolled his eyes. "Hey, I wasn't around a lot of other kids when I was little, and Pops had some really stupid views on girls, so sue me if I wasn't able to tell, when it wasn't ever brought up.

"Anyway, so I chose the food. Pops then spouted off some cockamamie excuse, and ran off with the _yatai_, leaving the cook and my friend in the dust, with me riding on the cart."

Frowning, Setsuna looked up at the clearly displeased young man before her. "You weren't aware of what he was doing at the time, but understood it later?"

As he looked to the side, refusing to meet the woman's eyes, Ranma nodded. "Yeah. It took a while, but once we started being around people and just... I guess society in general again, I figured out what he was doing. That it wasn't right." Laughing quietly for a moment while he considered something, Ranma looked back to the woman. In the lower light of the office, his blue eyes nearly shone, "It's hard to see that you're doing something wrong, when you've not got anything else to judge it by."

After suppressing an odd shiver at Ranma's wording and intensity, Setsuna motioned for him to continue.

"The problems you're worried about didn't come up till we got someplace to settle," the Saotome heir elaborated. "See, with him and me in one place, all these deals and problems he'd left behind started coming back home to roost. All those people he conned, sold me out to, engaged me to-"

"Wait," Setsuna interrupted, holding up a hand. "He engaged you as part of his con, repeatedly?"

"More times than I can recall," the martial artist tiredly replied. "And that's the problem. Pops used that to get us food, bed and lodging, training, sometimes even just a single meal," Ranma explained, bitterness dripping from his words. "So when we settled down in Nerima, all these people started showing up. Most were martial artists of some sort, which-"

"Lead to all the fights, conflict, and destruction," the young woman finished for him. "I see now. And these people focused on you, not your father?"

Clearly annoyed at the memories, if not the current situation, Ranma barked a laugh. "Yeah. They didn't want to admit they'd been conned so easy, so they bypassed blame and went for the bottom line. Easier to maintain their dignity that way, rather than admit they were duped by that idiot. Problem was, Pops was using family honor and my own morals against me, to hold me in another engagement he'd set up before I was born."

Seeing the situation a bit more clearly, Setsuna made a few more notations on her pad. "So with you refusing to honor their agreements, things devolved into conflict."

"Pretty much," Ranma agreed. "Tends to follow me around, though without the three biggest issues on my back, it shouldn't be quite so bad now. Well, they aren't handled completely, but I'm getting there."

"You worked to resolve some of these issues before transferring?" Seeing Ranma's nod, the woman relaxed visibly. "That is reassuring. Juuban may have its own unique... situations, but the general student body isn't as skilled in martial arts as Furinkan. I wouldn't want there to be injuries due to such things."

Ranma shook his head. "I don't let my fights involve innocents if I can help it. Goes against my code."

"Code?"

"I decided early on that I wanted to help people, to protect them from the kind of things that later on I saw my Pops doing. Basically, that as a martial artist, I'm bound by my personal honor to help those that need it. This means protecting people who can't protect themselves, and if I am in a fight, keeping it from spilling out beyond me and the opponent when I can."

"Power and responsibility," Setsuna summed up, getting a nod in reply. "I can understand that." Taking a handwritten letter from Ranma's record, she laid it gingerly on the desk. "This, I was informed, may be a sensitive topic. So please, bear with me and let me explain first."

"After reviewing your file, this letter, and the transcripts from Principal Kuno and your previous homeroom teacher, we have decided against letting you attend any kind of physical education class."

Ranma stared at the woman, frankly not understanding. "I... what?"

Setsuna favored him with an unsteady smile. "One, we don't feel you'd gain anything from the classes – and would in fact cause some loss of morale. Your stated and recorded physical abilities far outshine those of the typical High School student," she was pleased Ranma focused on the praise, rather than the word 'recorded' in her explanation. "Secondly, there is the issue of locker rooms and your... condition."

All hints of good cheer drained out of the young man, to be replaced by a glacial neutrality. "My 'condition'?"

The young woman across from him nodded, her own professional demeanor overwriting her earlier friendliness. "Your father contacted us, in regard to it, though his letter was rather... questionable. Normally, I'd not believe such a wild story, but there was enough proof from your previous school to back up the facts.

"Considering JMHS's already significant issues, with Juuban being targeted recently for far too many supernatural events, the administration feels its in the school's best interests to do the following. First, we need to minimize any potential for harassment – and retaliation. This means restricting the use of the gym showers and locker room."

Grudgingly, Ranma acknowledged that, though he was curious about Genma's letter. He'd find out in time, and it seemed that any attempt the man had made to stall Ranma's plans had fallen through, luckily. Putting that aside for later, Ranma had to admit there were more times than he could count that he recalled some wise-ass flipping his water during a shower to cold, or dumping a bucket of ice-water on his head, just to get a free look at a naked girl. Somehow, it usually escaped that person's mind that Ranma was notorious for not only disliking his curse, but being someone you didn't really want to piss off. They typically recalled those things in the nurse's office, later.

The flip side was possibly worse, because Ranma typically made it clear he was not a girl. The few times he'd gotten locked in a female form, the girls of Furinkan – rallied by Akane's constant squawking of 'pervert!' – had refused to let him use their showers. It didn't matter that he'd been brute-force desensitized to the female form by his own situation since most people, like Akane, seemed to just assume he used it as an easy way to be a voyeur, or worse. Basically locked out of any acceptable recourse, Ranma had been forced to sneak into the teacher's showers. That often didn't work out too well, either.

"Secondly, the condition will need to be made public."

Considering the logic of Setsuna's words, he briefly nodded. "I agree with what you're saying about locker rooms. But about it being made public-"

"I'd not suggest it, unless it was for your own comfort, safety, and benefit," she interrupted, before Ranma could build his logical defenses too tightly. "If it is openly known, there's no chance of you being blackmailed or otherwise put in a compromising position because of it. Other students would be cautioned not to harass or discriminate against you over it, as that falls within our guidelines, and you wouldn't need to rely on this alter-ego," pausing, she addressed the letter again, "...Ranko."

"One condition," Ranma countered, clearly displeased. "No girl's uniform – no matter what."

Setsuna paused, then nodded, making a notation. "I can tentatively agree to that, but if you need to maintain that form for an extended period," she flipped over a picture of Ranma's female form, dripping wet, annoyed, and clearly not enjoying the chill weather, as indicated by her clear physical reaction. The position of the photo masked Setsuna's private, wry smile. "...we will require you to wear the proper undergarments."

Ranma grit his teeth for only a moment. Most of his arguments against such things were more habit now, than his true feelings, but it still irked him. This meant keeping women's underwear on hand pretty much all the time, just in case. More than anything else, he dreaded the fallout that would cause if it came to light publicly, over any personal issues involving wearing a bra and panties. It seems he'd have a reason to practice the Hidden Weapons technique, after all.

He could understand why, though. Despite the undershirt and Chinese jacket, Ranma knew his female form filled those out far too well. Even though he only recently acquired a shred of female modesty, the martial artist agreed that preserving some decency would prevent a number of problems. Happosai wannabes, claims he was a pervert, or accusations on fishing for guys, being the most common he could recall. Or, with a shudder, Ranma admitted, another Kuno.

"Deal," he agreed quickly, after that thought.

"There is one last thing I would like to ask you," the emerald-haired woman voiced, as she gathered up her materials, the records, and her notes. "This was as a direct request of your former Principal, and it gave us some... hesitation.

"Why would he suggest we shave your head, before admitting you?"

After banging his head into the desk before him a few times, Ranma let himself out, smiling despite himself a the sound of the woman's quiet laughter behind him. The sound settled a weary sadness in him that had been there since he awakened that morning, for some reason. Maybe that good impression wasn't a loss, after all.

–


	5. A Life Less Ordinary

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Five: A Life Less Ordinary

–

Ranma found himself outside of homeroom after his meeting with school's aide, apparently before it had begun. Confused, he checked his watch once more, before shrugging. "Must have stopped or misread it," he muttered, making his way back to the teacher's offices. He had a few minutes to meet the teacher and get things sorted before class.

Sliding the door open, he was met by the curious looks of a few teachers, and a small handful of what he guessed might be other transfer students. "Ah, hey. I'm looking for a Mika Nakayama..."

One of the teachers by the small gathering of students beckoned him over. She was a woman of middle height, slight build, with brown hair and eyes that blinked back at him before smiling, behind her glasses. "I'm Mika Nakayama, but please remember to use proper respect for your teachers," the woman chided gently. "And you are?"

"Oh, sorry," Ranma muttered, wincing at his fumble. "My name's Ranma Saotome, I'm a new transfer." Handing the woman the packet he'd been supplied by Setsuna, the martial artist noticed the others nearby, apparently for the other transfer students and sighed quietly to himself. His packet was easily three times the size of the others.

Ranma fidgeted uncomfortably as the teacher's brows continued to rise as she read, threatening to disappear behind her bangs. "This is rather... interesting," she finally managed to stutter, blinking up at the unsettled young man before her. "Is this condition truly real?"

"Very much so," a familiar voice replied, as the door opened and closed again. Ranma stared slightly as the woman from before strode through the room to a small set of lockers, collecting a long white coat. "I've seen proof, but for Saotome-san's sake, lets not force him to demonstrate it now. It will be irritating enough for him to deal with damp clothes for a short while after homeroom." Seeing Ranma's sheepish look, Setsuna sighed. "You didn't bring a change of clothes?"

"I didn't know I'd have to deal with this," Ranma bit out, somewhat tersely. Recalling he was surrounded by teachers and other students, the cursed youth tugged on his braid. Schooling his expression and tone, he forced a more neutral response. "I can handle it if I can get excused a few minutes to sort it out."

Setsuna offered him an apologetic glance. "I know this isn't ideal, but Juuban isn't Nerima. Now, if you'd turned into a magical girl or monster, no one would bat an eye."

Three of the students nearby kept their own expressions neutral, as one of their companions behaved so... warmly to a stranger, though they twitched as one at the civilian-mode Senshi Pluto's final comment. Haruka Tenou, Michiru Kaiou, and the younger Hotaru Tomoe stood in tense silence as the strange introduction continued, wondering precisely what this ominous condition being spoke of was.

"I'm sure we can make arrangements, Saotome-san," his soon-to-be homeroom teacher assured, offering the young man a smile. "Now, take a place beside the other students, and we'll get you all off to your classes in a few minutes." As she began sorting their folders, she glanced up and waved to the young people, "Get to know one another. Three of you will be spending your final year here, and that makes it difficult, with exams going on, to socialize. It would be good if you could become friends."

Ranma stifled the urge to sigh, as he turned to the three young women nearest him. He never managed introductions well. "Ah, well like I said a sec ago, my name's Ranma Saotome. Nice to meet you all."

"Haruka Tenou," the blonde replied shortly, indicating the woman beside her. "And this is Michiru Kaiou." While she offered their names, Ranma took in their appearances briefly. The blonde was taller than the other girl and wore a more masculine cut of clothes under her vest compared to the other girl. She was tall, but just shorter than him though one wouldn't likely be able to tell at a distance. Michiru, as she'd been named, had oddly colorful aqua hair, that cascaded around her shoulders in waves, and accented her equally blue-green eyes nicely. She was slightly shorter than her blonde, blue-eyed companion, though easily a head above the last girl.

Blinking up at him with deep purple eyes, the last of the three, a dark-haired girl with a quiet air about her, simply offered a soft, "Hotaru Tomoe."

Nodding as they spoke, Ranma debated what to say next, before falling back on his most common standby. "I know we're all new, but I was wondering if anyone knew if there was a martial arts club here? I'm not going to be taking a phys ed class, so figured it may be good to ask around."

Warming to the topic, Haruka nodded. "Yeah, they have one I know of, maybe two. The traditional martial arts club I think is based in Kempo, and they've had a few wins in competitions around here. I think there may be a Kendo club as well."

"Sounds good," he noted, making some notes for the future, and some tentative plans.

"Were you looking to join? I was thinking of it, but I don't know how it would work, with my other hobbies taking up so much time."

Thinking over Haruka's question and how to answer it, Ranma nodded. It would be a good time to work on his sales pitch. "I think I may, but I'm more interested in the people than the martial arts." Seeing confusion on the young woman's face, he continued. "I'm going to be opening a dojo soon, and want to branch out. I figure it would be good to see if there are any promising students here, first."

The blonde's expression turned openly speculative. "You're what... seventeen?" At the black-haired teen's nod, she smirked. "Kind of young to be doing something like that, aren't you?"

Having expected this reaction, Ranma nodded again. It took a small effort of will not to rise to the challenge loudly, but he recalled some of his more recent lessons, and responded calmly, "I am, actually. But I've got just over a decade of training and travel under my belt. I've also been granted my teaching mastery by my School."

"Oh, c'mon, stop pulling my-"

"Haruka," her aqua-haired companion chided, silencing the woman. "Would you explain your hobby to Ranma?"

Blinking in confusion, the blonde shrugged. She didn't understand why Michiru asked her to, but what was the harm. Besides, she enjoyed talking about her passion. "Well, I do professional motorbike and track racing. Won a championship last year, and have three circuit awards."

Ranma understood what Michiru was doing, though it took him a moment to do so after listening to Haruka speak. Adopting his own doubtful look, Ranma shook his head slowly. "Huh. Sorry, not buying it."

"What?" Her blue eyes set in a glare, Haruka planted her fists on her hips. "What do you mean by that? You don't think I'm good enough?"

"How'd you get a license to drive those? Aren't you a bit young? How could you have trained at your age?"

Haruka's mouth opened to make her usual explanation – that she'd gotten her license abroad, thanks to her dual-citizenship from her family, before it snapped shut in realization. Sheepishly, she chuckled. "Ah... I see. Sorry about that."

Smirking slightly himself, Ranma offered a slight smile to the serenely calm Michiru before turning his attention back to Haruka. "Hey, happens all the time, right?" At the blonde's sheepish nod, he laughed. "Trust me, I know. S'why I'm starting up here, where people can see my skills first, rather than put out ads and such. I'd rather not fight that battle every time someone answered or called."

With a gesture very much like Ranma's own nervous habit, Haruka reached up and scratched at the back of her neck. "Ah, yeah. Say, how good are you? I could use a good spar now and then."

"Pretty good," Ranma replied with a wry smile, suppressing his usual bluster. It wouldn't win him any points, here. "I've trained in a lot of styles, so we can maybe do some drills with what you know already, or test your form sometime against something different." Turning his attention to Michiru, Ranma asked, "And what do you do? If you don't mind me asking."

Smiling, Michiru nodded, "I don't mind. I'm a musician. I play concert violin, and like Haruka, have a few awards for it." Her smile became mischievous, at a thought, "going to challenge that as well, Ranma?"

Getting a very Kasumi-type vibe from the woman, Ranma shook his head, smiling ruefully. "Oh no, I know better than to underestimate people. You could be able to juggle a lemon while playing, for all I know." At the shocked looks he was getting from the three, the martial artist's eye twitched. "...don't tell me you can? How is that even possible," he muttered, contemplating the mechanics of such a thing for a moment, before shaking his head hard. "I wanna see that some time. It sounds impressive, though I don't know much about music."

"Oh, you don't listen to classical? I do other styles..."

"Ah," Ranma flinched slightly, hating moments like this. It was one of the things that he really wished had been different growing up with his father on the road. All the normal, regular things that other people did and took for granted, he always found himself lacking in, in some way. It had taken his former English teacher Hinako Ninomiya the better part of a summer to get his speech mostly resembling something that didn't come from some backwater farming village, for instance. "I actually don't know much about music at all. Never got a chance to listen to it, growing up."

Michiru let the shock she was feeling color her features. "...none at all?"

"Sorry."

"No," the other teen wavered, taking a moment to take a long, stilling breath. "Well, nothing attending some concerts won't help. We simply must fix this," she stated, pinning Ranma with a steely look as he opened his mouth to reply. "_Won't we_."

With a shiver, Ranma nodded fervently. "R-Right."

Michiru's sunny smile dismissed the strange dread Ranma had been feeling, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Turning his attention to the youngest of the three, he smiled. The girl seemed shy, and somewhat frail to his senses. "Hotaru, wasn't it?" At the girl's nod, he knelt down so he wasn't looking down at her. "So, your friends mentioned their hobbies, what do you do?" Ranma's eyes widened as the girl seemed to draw in on herself more, turning away slightly. Looking up at the pained looks from the other two, he wondered, "Did I say something wrong?"

"Hotaru's not been well, recently," Michiru explained, veiling the whole truth slightly. "She doesn't have a lot of energy thanks to her condition, really."

"She's getting better," Haruka asserted, favoring the smaller girl with a smile. "Just takes time, y'know."

"Sorry to hear that," Ranma offered, smiling at the still-distant girl. Sighing, he knew that being much more forward or trying to draw her out would likely backfire, so stood again, scratching at the base of his pigtail. "Well, maybe I'll see you around later, and we can talk," he offered somewhat lamely, before being interrupted by the return of his new Sensei, Mika Nakayama.

"Alright, we're going to need to head to class soon. Saotome, Tenou, and Kaiou are all in my homeroom class, so we can go there now. As for you Tomoe-chan," she continued, handing the girl a note, "You're in 2-C. Can you find your way?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Great," the teacher replied, beckoning the transfers on. "Lets get going then."

"Hey, Taru-chan," Haruka called as they all parted ways in the hall. "Meet us by the big tree in the courtyard at lunch!"

"Oh, and Saotome-san, Meiou-san asked me to make sure you had the water you needed before class began."

Swearing under his breath, Ranma stopped at a water cooler, to get the required two cups of water for what he hoped would be a saner unveiling of his curse than he'd previously endured.

–

The day went fairly normal for Ranma, including the usual first reactions to his curse, as the martial artist demonstrated it for his homeroom class like Setsuna had asked. Thanks to Nakayama-sensei, the disruption was kept to a minimum, and Ranma capitalized on his superior speed and abilities to avoid any uncomfortable questions during lunch by simply not being where anyone could find him. The notes that had been passed to him all during class he simply ignored.

Recalling what Haruka had called to Hotaru earlier, Ranma made his way to the courtyard, but did not move to the large tree at the center. Instead, the cursed youth took his time eating lunch, watching all the people of the school and how they acted, figuring this was the usual gathering place for the students on break. Classes were good for figuring out who happened to be good students, but they did little to show him what people were actually like. What he saw ran directly counter to everything he knew about schools.

There were no rivals quarreling over whatever it was that day that set them off. No pompous windbags bellowing their own qualities for all to hear. No foreign students or unfamiliar uniforms randomly showing up to disrupt things. No food feuds taking place.

To his eyes, it seemed like Juuban Municipal was a decidedly boring place. Smiling, Ranma decided that it suited him just fine. School could be as boring as watching grass grow, and he'd not complain. There was enough chaos in the martial artist's life already, with all the things he still dragged along behind him, thank you very much.

He did manage to see the three girls he'd met that morning, as they met up with another small group briefly. Ranma blinked a moment, as what he was seeing settled in his mind. "Lot of odd hair colors around here. Three blondes? Must be a common transfer school." One girl made him do a double-take as she sat by the larger huddle of young women, but after a moment's scrutiny, Ranma realized that no – this short-haired girl was definitely not Akane.

The rest of the school day sped by quickly, and despite one instance of being nearly bored to the point of unconsciousness, Ranma managed to sit his classes and actually get things done. Homework in hand, the young man made to leave after the final bell, only to be blockaded by Haruka and Michiru near the door. "Uh. Hello..." he offered lamely, looking between the two in confusion and slight dread. If there was going to be a confrontation of sorts over the curse, it would figure that these two would start it, Ranma admitted. His life and irony just worked that way.

To his left, Michiru smiled warmly, ratcheting up his sense of impending doom exponentially. "We were wondering if you'd like to come with Haruka, Hotaru, and I this afternoon, when we go to the downtown shopping district?"

Warning bells went off in the Saotome boy's head, and he laughed nervously. This couldn't be good. "Ah, well that is, I have something-"

"We figured with you being new here and all, we could show you around some, help you get settled," the blonde offered. "And, Hotaru was looking forward to talking with you more about the soft styles I mentioned earlier, that maybe you know more about," Haruka added in, her smile pleasant, but the gleam in her eyes far too familiar for Ranma's liking.

Clothes shopping. Ranma suppressed a shudder at the thought. Honestly, he managed it just fine for the most part, even down to getting women's underthings these days. But, there was a very, very big difference between shopping for necessity, and being a glorified doll for some girls who thought it would be fun to stuff a dress on a girl who's mind happened to belong to a guy.

Despite that, Ranma still felt a pang at knowing he couldn't go. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but the gesture of friendship made a part of him want to grab on and not let go of such a chance. As he stood there, looking down at his hands, Ranma wondered if he'd ever learn. First Ukyo, then Ryoga, then Akane. Would these girls be different?

For a moment, the phantom of his father's voice intruded on him, "What, giving up again, boy?"

Looking up, he met the girl's eyes. "I'd like to, but..." he offered sincerely, bowing his head in regret. "But I can't."

Haruka blinked, having not expected that strong a response. "Ah, that's ok. Maybe another time."

"Is everything alright?"

Ranma considered Michiru's question, before shaking his head slowly. He'd refused to think about it all day, but with the deadline coming up, closing in on him hour by hour, reality had pushed itself forward without remorse. He couldn't deny the responsibility, anymore, with school over with. "Not really. I need to go visit a friend in the hospital."

–


	6. It's Not Me, It's You

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Six: It's Not Me, It's You

–

Minato was much busier than Nerima. Businesses were closer together, and the buildings much, much taller than he was used to. It was harder to roof-hop between locations, not that he really risked doing so, with so much light in the afternoon to betray him to a careful eye. He knew damn well that some of his issues would follow him to the ends of the Earth, just as they had from China years ago, and painting a target on his back by being so obvious was just not smart. Worrying over such a thing wouldn't get anything done, and would instead likely keep him from ever making progress, Ranma knew, which was why he was being careful not to make waves. The longer it took for them to find him, the more he could prepare. So, he pushed that worry to the back of his mind for the moment, focusing instead on what he'd planned to do, ever since taking the Tendo's dojo tile.

Walking into a nearby tea shop, the Saotome heir slipped into their restroom, only moments later exiting female, and wearing a zip-up hooded jacket and a pair of denim jeans instead of the red and black so iconic to her. Pulling the hood up to hide her trademark hair, Ranma started the longer path of walking the street toward her goal, just one more young person in a sea of humanity. Fifteen minutes and a little flirting yielded a bouquet of white and striped carnations, and a half hour more saw her standing outside the Nerima General Hospital.

Licking her lips nervously, Ranma swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped inside. Sighting the main desk, she walked up with a worried expression – only exaggerating slightly to achieve the desired effect. "Hi, um... I was wondering if my friend was admitted today." She lifted the bouquet with a sheepish grin. "Brought her some flowers."

The receptionist looked up and offered her a warm smile. "That's very nice of you to do. Let me see if she was admitted, what was her name?"

"Akane Tendo."

Five minutes later, Ranma stood just around the bend of the hall leading to Akane's room, pausing with her eyes narrowed. The scent of a particular brand of bargain cigarettes wafted along the path she'd walked from the elevator to here, and it was a recent thing. "Which means old man Tendo's here. Hm."

Hood up, she extended her senses to their limit, barely noting Soun Tendo's particular aura ahead. He was the only familiar thing present, other than Akane. His presence however was unfocused and disperse, making Ranma think he was either relaxing or asleep, which would make sense. It had been a stressful twenty-four hours, after all, seeing his entire martial arts legacy torn down around him.

Though she was loathe to do so, Ranma grit her teeth before assuming the opening stance of the Umisenken, fading from awareness completely. Unlike her father, Ranma was never forced or asked to seal the two Senkens – Genma had only demanded that Ryū Kumon do so. Still, knowing what the two Thief's Arts were originally meant for made her hesitant to use them. It just didn't feel... right. This needed to be done, however, and it wasn't a justification.

Knowing she was far from invisible in regard to mechanical and electric means, Ranma wasted little time in walking purposefully up to the half-aware Tendo patriarch, as if she were in full view still. Eying the man critically, Ranma simply reached out as if to offer the man a pat on the shoulder, masking her use of a Shiatsu strike. Soun 'nodded' as she shook him slightly, and Ranma smiled in turn, before letting the man's posture slump back against his chair. Giving the now-sleeping man one more pat on the shoulder, she turned to the door before her, turning the handle and letting herself in.

An exasperated mutter met her efforts. "Dad, I'm fine, really! You can... hello?"

Ranma spent a moment grinning wryly at Akane's tired argument, before shaking herself. Now was not the time for nostalgia. Dropping the Thief's Cloak, she appeared beside the door as it closed with a soft 'click', her face schooled into a neutral expression.

Akane's reaction was more or less expected. "What are _you_ doing here?"

From the crook of her arm, Ranma lifted the bouquet, gesturing to it. "Brought some flowers by. Want me to put them in some water for you?"

Somewhat off balance, Akane nodded slowly, tracking the cursed boy as his female form walked to a nearby sink, filling a vase with water before carefully arranging the carnation's stems within. Finding her voice again, the youngest Tendo spoke, "I didn't expect you to come by."

"I'd be a pretty shitty person if I didn't," Ranma replied, her back to the Tendo. "I broke your arm. Would be a pretty horrible friend if I didn't at least come by to see how you're doing."

"Friend?" The incredulity in Akane's voice grated along Ranma's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. "You got a lot of nerve using that word, Ranma."

"Like you're any better," the redhead snapped, glaring over her shoulder. "Not half an hour after we meet, and you're smashing a table on your 'friend's' head."

Looking away, the dark-haired girl refused to acknowledge the comment, not that Ranma expected anything else. Shrugging it off like so many other arguments and barbs, Ranma turned and moved to a table left just for such things, leaving the vase with its flowers there. Wanting to be done with her business here before Tendo shook off the sleep-point she'd used, the redhead broke the tense silence that her recrimination had brought. "Did you read my letter?"

Akane's glare, if anything, got sharper. "The one about Ryoga?"

Ranma nodded, turning to meet the other girl's glare head-on. "About his ki, and the Shi Shi Hokudan. About how he's destroying himself with it. About how you're doing the same thing with your anger."

Akane blinked rapidly at that. Though she had seen the letter, after the first few lines and then the mention of Ryoga she'd just dismissed the rest as some kind of jealous, stupid, pointless noise. Those two were always fighting, and it just didn't seem fair with how Ranma always hurt the other boy's feelings, to get a rise out of him. Hearing what it was really about didn't change her mood however, and her irritation was clear when she spoke. "Oh? This some kind of warning about learning something I'm not ready for? How dangerous it is?" Her tone was mocking, but Ranma's expression and posture, if anything, lost all traces of warmth or friendliness at her words. She'd expected a reaction, but that kind of anger wasn't it.

"Yeah, Akane," Ranma bit out sharply, "it is."

"I'm _sooo_ surprised-"

"God damn it, tomboy, this time you're gonna listen, if I have to break your other arm to get you to do it!" Shocked silent by the threat, Akane's eyes darted to the door behind which she just recalled her father sitting outside of, since seeing Ranma. Noticing the look, Ranma snorted. "He's sleeping. Will be for about an hour. So, unless you wanna call hospital security, you're gonna shut up and listen for once in you life."

Mouth working silently at this change in the dynamic between them, Akane could only blink as the redhead pulled her hood down, taking a seat. "You got a lot of potential Akane. Lot of power from that anger, to go with it." Organizing her thoughts as she'd tried to do all day, Ranma continued, "but you ain't got control of it. You're letting it control you, not the other way around. That ain't the Art.

"If you'd read what I put in that letter, you'd know what I was saying here." She accused with a huff, crossing her arms. "Pig-boy's skill feeds off depression. It focuses and reinforces it, drawing on that well of emotion to power his ki up to stupidly dangerous levels. But you can't do that, without paying a price."

Face set in a scowl, Akane nodded for the redhead to go on.

"The more you depend on something like that, the more you... polarize yourself to it, I guess," Ranma explained haltingly, cursing her lack of talent for words. "And it shifts something vital inside you. Throws you off balance."

"So? He seems fine, and it's a powerful skill. I don't see the problem."

"And that's why I don't take you seriously," Ranma barked, causing the youngest Tendo to flinch from the noise. "You don't care about the consequences of this kinda thing. It's all about the quick power-up, the easy way, getting around the work, to get the reward."

Akane's expression soured in anger. "I work just as hard as everyone else-"

"Breaking bricks and punching posts, in the same way you've done for years," Ranma countered, knocking the wind out of Akane's argument. "Relying on magic power-ups? You ain't gonna grow like that in the Art, Akane. It ain't about hitting things harder, or being able to break more bricks." Heaving a sigh, the redhead ventured onto territory she herself had just recently walked, when things simply became too much. "Why do you wanna be a martial artist, Akane? What's the real reason?"

The youngest Tendo glared at her former fiance and said the first thing that came to mind, "To get stronger."

"Why?"

Akane shrugged. "Isn't that the point?"

Shaking her head, Ranma stood, pacing slowly. "No, Akane, not at all.

"When Pops first started training me, he drilled this into my head before he even taught me how to fall right. Taught me that being a martial artist was hard, but that the reward was great. Do you know what that reward was?" Seeing Akane shake her head, Ranma went on, her voice getting quiet. "Power."

Confusion shone clear in Akane's eyes at that. "But... how's that different than...?"

"Power to protect. Power to destroy. Power to nurture. Power to change," Ranma explained slowly. "The Art will make you stronger. Will give you power, of that there's no doubt. But it's only the path, not the goal. What's your goal, _for_ that strength, Akane? What are you gonna do with it?"

The dark haired girl fell silent, not knowing an answer to give.

"I wanna be the best. The Art's the only thing that's really been there for me, so I live for it," Ranma explained as she slumped back into her chair. "Don't leave a lot of room for much else. Maybe that makes me stupid, and is why I ain't good at school or dealing with people. All my life's been the Art, and I don't much wanna change that.

"Shampoo does it for her pride, and her heritage," the redhead continued, earning her a small glare for bringing up Akane's often-opponent. "She's got laws that she grew up knowing, that say her Art's how her people determine what kinda life they lead. Skill and talent in the Art, to them... it's like college for normal people.

"For Ukyo, it's about family, and honor. Her whole life she grew up learning her dad's Art, and it was bound up in their traditions. You're a Kuonji – you get taught the Kuonji styles," she stated, shaking her head slowly. "Her family honor demands she be good in it, or she's a disappointment to them. The rewards are a livelihood and skills that she can take to the world outside her clan."

Ranma's next words shook Akane, as she considered them. "So tell me, what is it that Ryoga's Art's for? Does he protect anyone? Is it his family honor he works for? How about tradition or heritage?"

"Well, what's so different between me and you?" Akane challenged after a small silence, relying on old methods when she was confused, dealing with the aquatranssexual. Argument. "I want to get stronger, and you say you just want to be better in the Art. It's the same thing."

Heaving a sigh, Ranma rubbed at her temple. "No it ain't," she countered. "The Art isn't about being strong. Isn't about winning or losing or even fighting. The Art is the Art – and that's it. It's just one more means to an end. And it took me a long time to see that.

"So tell me, Akane," Ranma challenged, meeting Akane's confusion with her own open curiosity. "What does it mean to you, to be strong? Where's it gonna take you?"

"I... I don't know."

"What do you want out of life, then? Is the Art part of that?"

Akane shook her head, her eyes clouded with doubt. "No... I wanted to be an actor when I grew up. I wanted to be in theater."

Ranma nodded, knowing this. "Theater – not a stunt double, or nothing like that," she elaborated needlessly, regardless making her point. "That's the difference between us, Akane. One day, you're gonna have a life that revolves around something else, but for me, the center's always gonna be the Art."

"Is that how you really feel?" Ranma nodded, only to pause as Akane laughed mirthlessly. "Oh Ranma..."

"What?"

Akane smiled at the cursed boy sadly. "I don't think that's how it'll always be. But I'm not going to argue that. Now, you've said your peace – it's my turn.

"Just because your life is all about the Art, and you have these lofty ideas doesn't mean that I'm not a martial artist," she stated firmly, cutting off whatever the redhead was about to say with a glare. "Let me finish! I have my own reasons. Maybe they aren't as high and mighty as yours, or Ukyo's, or Shampoo's, but I have them.

"I want to be strong, so no one can force me to do anything I don't want to," she finally said, not sounding wholly sure at the start, but finding her conviction soon after. "Maybe that's why we never got along. You never respected my reasons, because for me, the Art isn't the center of the universe. It isn't my life, _just something I do_, Ranma."

"Yeah, I want to be good at it, and for a while I had to be. It was all that kept Kuno's goons from... from," here the girl shuddered, and took a deep breath. "It just means freedom from what you brought with you from China, from what Kuno's trying and tried to do, from the Hentai Horde, and from all the crazies that show up for whatever reason."

Seeing the hurt she'd caused with that comment, Akane nonetheless continued. "Maybe once it was about family. When I was little, dad taught me because it was the family style, but then... he just stopped. I felt betrayed, like I wasn't good enough, like... he'd given up on me. But I kept on. I wanted to prove I was good enough to get his attention again. So I started pushing myself in the only ways I knew.

"Then a few months before you came along he taught me something, after Kuno started his crap," she muttered, eyes distant with memory. "He was worried about Kuno and his stupid sword, and all those boys taking advantage of me, so he taught me how to dig deep, and build up something, anything that was there, to get an edge. It's a desperation move, he told me. A last resort, because of how hard it was to use, and how much it costs.

"I could never get it to work against Kuno for the longest time," she muttered, huffing out an annoyed breath. "Then you come along, with your insults, and taunts, and being just... just _better_, and rubbing my face in it all the time!" Tears threatened at the corner of her eyes, as Akane glared at the redhead sitting nearby, who looked petrified by her words. "You made me so damn angry, Ranma. So angry I couldn't see straight, or think. Maybe you think it's alright, from being around that jackass panda of a father for so long, but the things you say _hurt_.

"Then one day, it worked. All that anger ended up being enough, and I finally got what dad meant, when he said it was hard." Quieting, Akane looked up at the changed girl before her with an empty stare. "You know what he did, once I told him? _He said he was sorry_. I felt like he'd punched me in the stomach. He wasn't proud, or happy, or even really seemed interested. It just made him sad!"

Swiping away at her tears angrily, the youngest Tendo sniffed hard, breathing rapidly to keep her emotions under control. Finally she spoke again, "So, don't walk in here, with your high and mighty mastery of the Art, and try to tell me what things cost, when you were right there in the middle of it, pushing me on."

Staring down at her hands Ranma could do nothing but nod quietly. Finally, she swallowed hard and looked up. "I'm sorry, Akane."

"It's a bit late for apologies, Ranma."

"Don't matter," the redhead muttered, reaching up to rub at her face tiredly. "I still mean it. But you gotta listen to one thing, if nothing else I say ever again, you got to pay attention, and really trust me for once." Seeing she had Akane's attention, the cursed boy went on. "Anger like that... it's just like Hibiki's depression. You use it like that, to get that power, and you make yourself dependent on it. You like being strong like that, right? How you can dig down, and find that fury, and BAM!" Akane startled as Ranma slammed her fist into the nearby table, rattling the vase there. "You're suddenly all charged up, ready to take on the world!"

The other girl nodded hesitantly, blinking at how serious Ranma was, recalling how all the other times she'd had an edge on the martial artist a similar conversation had occurred. The Enchanted Armor, the Super Soba... so she waited, and let the redhead talk, to see where this go.

Ranma hesitated to say what needed to, for fear of actually making things worse, but knew there was really no other way to proceed. Warily, she kept speaking, "What do you think's gonna happen, Akane, when you figure out how to pull it up on a whim? Anytime you need it, that anger's there, and with it the power?"

"I'll have gotten it right?"

The redhead sighed, shaking her head. "How often have you been _happy_ recently, Akane? Since you learned this? How much have you been angry, for no good reason? Haven't you noticed I've been backing off you? I've not used an insult to try and goad you, motivate you, or anything in months. So why are you still angry?"

Akane's mouth worked for a moment, about to call Ranma out on what she was saying, but memory spoke louder and her words died on her lips. Still, she couldn't take the redhead's words at face value, with all the other times where they'd had similar conversations and arguments still raw in her memory too. "I haven't got a lot to be happy about, if you hadn't noticed," she sniped back, wincing as she made to cross her arms, only to shift her cast wrong. That pain bloomed, and settled in her chest like an ember, washing away her uncertainty and doubt. "I don't need to hear this," she bit out, glaring at Ranma where she sat.

"You need to hear it, but you ain't listening," Ranma sighed with a shake of her head. She'd tried. She'd wanted to try and use the dojo as an example, hoping to show Akane why she'd done what she did. Ranma had hoped what she'd said to Soun would have made the man confront Akane about things, but apparently it wasn't enough. Standing, Ranma spared her former fiancee one final look before turning toward the door. "You know, part of my code is to keep people from being hurt. To try and help those who can't help themselves, right? You know why I picked that code, Akane, even though Pops gave me an option of the others?" Seeing the Tendo shrug, uncaring, Ranma frowned. "Because I didn't want to abuse what I'd been given."

Stopping at the door, Ranma took a deep breath, before turning one blue eye back at the youngest Tendo, meeting her gaze askance. "I ain't no saint, Akane, but there was a reason for what I did with you, and maybe it wasn't the best way, but it was all I knew at the time. Pops trained me by pushing me to be better than the one person he could understand, that he knew better than anyone. He pushed me to be better than him. What do you think I was trying to do, these last two years?"

Akane shrank back at the intensity that Ranma's look suddenly gained, and could have sworn for a moment that the redhead's eye glowed. "When we abuse what we're given and use it to hurt others, it makes us no better than people like Herb, or Saffron, or Kirin. Don't make me come back to Nerima, Akane. Please."

Suddenly as she'd appeared, Ranma was gone, with a click of the door closing behind her. Fighting off a sudden bout of chills, the youngest Tendo pulled her blankets up higher, eyes straying to the bouquet of flowers by her bed. She stared at them for a long handful of minutes, expression flashing through a myriad of emotions, before her face screwed up and with a cry, she slammed her cast into the vase, throwing water and flowers across the room in a shower of broken glass.

–


	7. Recognizer

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Seven: Recognizer

–

Dissatisfied and tired, Ranma wasted little time changing back to his birth gender while leaving the hospital. Though he didn't mind the curse, he did mind the attention sometimes. Sure, he used the female form to get to people, flirting sometimes if it involved ice cream, or a quick pick-me-up for amusement, but the leering looks that got sent his way sometimes made him want to pound people.

"Could really use some ice cream right now," he muttered as a result of those idle thoughts, but didn't give in to the notion. It was late, and he wanted to get in some work on the warehouse before he needed to sleep. The sooner he could stop using public baths and eating out, the sooner he could start saving up again. Narrowing his eyes in thought, Ranma considered one option he'd been given, before shaking his head hard. "Not yet. Need to see if I can do this on my own, first."

Halfway to Minato, Ranma realized the error in his thinking. "Damn. Home is on the other side of Juuban. So much for getting any work done tonight..." That thought in mind, Ranma stalled in his sprint, letting himself relax into a loping jog, before finally slowing to a stop. "Maybe I should have taken up Haruka and Michiru on that offer for a shopping trip," he mused, frowning at the memory of how his talk with Akane had went. He knew it wouldn't go well, but had hoped that she'd listen, just once, when it really mattered.

He really needed to unwind, or he was going to crack sometime soon. Scrubbing his hand through his hair angrily, Ranma stomped on the sidewalk, missing the spiderweb of cracks he'd just caused. "Arrrgh, fine! I'll get some damn ice cream!" Ranma blinked as people on the street gave him a wide margin, suddenly, looking fearfully his way. Rolling his eyes, he continued on, angling for an ice cream shop he'd seen while looking for a new place to live, months ago. "Feh. Think that's odd? They should spend some time in Nerima."

Of course, those words coincided with the ice cream parlor he'd been standing in front of exploding into a ball of fire, the concussive force washing out strong enough to shatter windows for two blocks, and flip nearby cars onto their sides.

–

She smiled as the guards drew back as she snapped at them, her teeth making a sharp sound in the immaculate, white crystal hallway. "Feh. Cowards." Her insult was met with little argument, though the Imperial Guardsmen around her tightened their grips on the shockspears they held at the ready. A laugh bubbled up in her chest, knowing that the bonds that held her feet close, and hands together at her back, meant nothing to those men and their opinion of the danger she presented. She humored the restraints out of her own sense of honor, rather than any real binding they presented.

"Stop letting her intimidate you," the severe form that stepped from the doorway ahead chided, derision clear in her tone. Proximity revealed the form of a glowering Senshi Uranus, in full martial court regalia. Gone was the skintight, magically reinforced bodysuit and matching flourishes, representing her position as a ranking soldier of the Queen's Empire. In the place of the Senshi's typical garb, the statuesque blonde sported an armored and elaborate pale yellow mantle with flared shoulders that anchored a draping cape, in deep blue. The tiara indicating her position as a trusted hand of The Serenity glinted on her brow, the gem a navy that matched her cape. Beyond that, the uniform beneath the draping cloth and mantle was strict and identical to those she knew would be worn by the other attending Senshi, marking them as just another manifestation of their magical arsenal.

She too had once worn such a uniform.

Feeling justifiably vindictive, the captive woman leveled a smirk at the glaring woman. "How nice of you to come and see me off, first-loser," she remarked airily, internally laughing at the sudden color that lit the Senshi's cheeks. "Though I guess you'd never miss the chance to see someone put me in my place..." the woman drawled, before tacking on her final barb, "...since you couldn't do it yourself."

Wisely, the Guardsmen around the sharp-tongued woman opened a clear path between their charge and the suddenly livid Uranus. Storming forward as the bound woman continued on her path, the two met in an unclear flurry of cape and clanking chains, which resolved itself into a off-balance Uranus falling forward on her face, while the prisoner smirked, her lip slightly bloody. Spitting on the blonde's cape, she continued on her assigned way, as the Imperial Guard closed around her once more, warily.

"Damn you, Kinuran!" The blonde snarled, before a teal-colored shimmer glinted beside her, clearing finally into the form of Senshi Neptune. Somewhat startled at the sudden restraining hand on her shoulder, Uranus' Senshi looked into the disapproving eyes of the other woman and stalled in her retaliatory charge.

"As you said, don't let her get to you," Neptune warned, getting a terse nod in reply. "Her time is up. Let it go."

Wincing as she dislodged a tooth that had been knocked loose in the brief but decisive scuffle, Uranus could only watch hatefully as the Traitor Princess smirked over her shoulder, before crossing the threshold to the Lunar Seat where her judgment waited.

Heartened by her slight scuffle with the Senshi's so-called 'best fighter', the woman only known as Kinuran strode into the grand hall where The Serenity waited, on her crystal throne. The Queen wasn't alone of course, as this was a very public and very serious event, that according to the publicity being whispered both openly and behind closed doors, involved the security not only of Terra, but the Empire's hold on the sector of space where the Sol System ruled as regent in its name.

Lies, of course, Kinuran knew. The only thing at stake was Serenity's hold on the resource-rich worlds accompanying Terra and her reputation before her own court. Since arriving with their fleet and flagship, the artificial moon that rested above Terra's oceans now, the Empire had done little but force their 'peace' on the already inhabited Sol System. That peace was much preferred by many to the devastation the foreigners demonstrated on the doomed world Ceres, now so much rubble floating in space between Mars and Jupiter. That had been their warning shot, entering the Sol System.

Distant Nemesis, in its countering orbit within the comet cloud had fared no better, though the Senshi of Vengeance had taken her due as her world was thrown into a space-time rift forever putting them out of phase with the rest of the universe they had known. She did not go alone. Forewarned of the Empire's tactics with the help of her sister on Pluto, the doomed Senshi had lured the Empire's great fleet to her home, daring them to do the same thing to her planet as they had to Ceres. The Empire, of course, consented, being the conquering force it was. With Nemesis so openly declaring hostilities, it gave the Empire leave to remove not only the threat of the planet's vastly destructive Senshi, but to claim its resources as their own. Once Nemesis was under Empire rule, the Queen could capture its Senshi's crystal as she had the others, and with her Silver Imperium Crystal, turn the planet and its Guardian to the Empire's cause.

Once within reach of Nemesis's gravity, however, she had turned the tables spectacularly, springing her trap. Long before the arrival of the fleet's war machine, Nemesis had evacuated what people would flee to Terra, though many stood loyally by her side, to further the ruse. Using her domain of space and matter, Nemesis ripped the fabric of the universe apart in a final act of revenge for her fallen comrades, and the sake of those that remained. Into that rip, over half of the Empire's vanguard in the Sol System vanished, along with the prize of mineral-dense Nemesis, and the Senshi's power.

Serenity, understandably, was livid at the loss on both sides. This was when her flagship took permanent station above Terra, the cradle of life for the Sol System. Ransoming it in exchange for the right to rule, she succeeded finally in bending Sol to her will.

Almost.

The other planets swore their loyalty one by one, either having their Guardians replaced or in some cases, trained in the Empire's schools for those too young to clearly recall Sol's independence before the Settling War. Still, pockets of resistance held firm. None were more vocal in this, than Terra's own Senshi, the appointed Guardian of Life herself. While the politicians within the Sol Senate wheedled deals and brokered trade, she worked beside Saturn and Pluto in secret, undermining and ripping out the foundations of rule with abandon. It was a war already lost she knew however, and in time their alliance broke by necessity, for the sake of their worlds and the people they were responsible for.

Senshi Terra, as Kinuran was once called, would not bend to Serenity's order and stood firm. It served to take suspicion from her compatriots, and offered the Empire a fat target for their propaganda engine. Only when it became clear that her actions began harming her own people more than it gave them hope and a goal, did she cease her guerrilla tactics and personal war.

She had ended her fight grandly, riding atop one of the Empire fleet's debilitated mothership-class carriers as it crashed into the Queen's own flagship. That she had disabled it herself, alone, spoke volumes about what kind of threat she posed and it was no surprise that she was only taken into custody finally, only by her own volition. From the wreckage she had been taken directly into holding, though few dared take the Queen's replacement Senshi up on their offhand comment that she be 'broken'. None of them could hold their own against the senior Guardian, though she humored Pluto and Saturn's efforts with good will, and private smiles. Appearances had to be maintained, after all.

It was from those combat-trials that Uranus became embittered to her so fiercely, as she stood tall among Serenity's replacements as the best of their warriors. Trained by the Imperial Guard for a decade while Kinuran fought her losing war, Uranus proved a combat natural, soaking up technique and theory at an astounding rate from her teachers. The blonde woman couldn't stand against Kinuran's skill, honed through three of the the younger Senshi's lifetimes, though. Such things only served to further turn the Empire's eye collectively against Sol, and its Queen's inability to silence the rebellion, embodied in the redheaded Kinuran.

Finally, simple imprisonment became insufficient. An example needed to be made of the woman, to save face.

And so Kinuran found herself standing tall before the Lunar Seat, as The Serenity, her daughter, and the replacement Senshi stood in judgment of her. Behind her and around the raised dais were arranged the present Imperial Court, little more than vultures come to spectate at what would surely prove a monumental execution. Only the eyes of Saturn and Pluto spoke something other than spite and disdain, though it pained the redhead more to see them fighting private battles over her fate. Donning her nearly trademark smirk, she met the Queen's haughty gaze directly. "So, you finally getting around to getting your own hands dirty, eh little girl? 'Bout time."

Senshi Mars, a young woman raised in and well-indoctrinated in the Empire's way after the Settling War, bristled and made to step forward, but stalled when the silver and white-clad Serenity held up a warding hand. "Be at peace, Mars... this one's tongue is as dangerous as her nature. Truly, an example of the very barbarism we hope to overcome."

"I'm sure Ceres thinks pretty highly of your civilized ways," Kinuran quipped, her smirk widening at the flare of irritation she saw in the Queen's eyes. "Though, you'd need to go out with a trolling field to find anyone to ask... provided they were still in one piece after you thaw them from hard vacuum," she commented, idly inspecting her nails, the sound of her chains rattling loud in the great hall. Murmurs of disquiet and horror rose from the galleries, where the Senate and Court sat in audience, as the former Senshi of Terra challenged Serenity to refute or deny her hand in that destruction with her half-lidded stare.

A born politician, Serenity rose to the challenge, "We are not here to mourn the loss of Ceres, though you do them a great disservice with your callous words-"

"No more than your ships did with their singularity bombs," Kinuran interrupted sharply, throwing the woman off her stride. "C'mon, Little Miss Empire, no one bearing your colors even _knew_ people on Ceres. Don't play that card here, you'll just look more like the pompous ass we all know you for." Smirking at the outcry that rose at her words, the redhead winked at the silver-haired woman before her. "Care to try again? Maybe we could discuss Nemesis, and what's left of your fleet over tea and cakes!"

Lips thinned to a fine line, the Queen's posture quaked slightly, as she reined in her temper. It was no secret that Kinuran was an artist at drawing out one's anger and disquiet, but she'd never been in direct contact with the redhead before. The rumors of her ability to bait and barb were humble, if anything when compared to the reality. Deciding apparently to forgo any further verbal fencing, the Queen cut the rising murmur to silence with her words. "Kinuran of Terra, you stand before this throne charged with treason and sedition against your home planet, a territory of the Empire. By right of rule, I hereby strip you of your Guardianship – no longer will be privileged to stand among those named Senshi."

Kinuran didn't so much as blink at those words, having already been locked away from her planet's mana-tap with her incarceration. It was painful, and there was a vast, yawning lack she had felt since it was put in place, but she didn't allude to those things in the presence of these people. She refused to give them that satisfaction. The Queen's next words, however, caused her hackles to rise angrily.

"As you will be stripped of your power, another must be chosen. The Lunar Seat feels that the rift you have caused between Terra and the Empire would be best remedied... with a union. To ensure the peace, _we_ will choose your successor.

"Come forth, Endymion," the woman commanded, and the imprisoned Senshi's head snapped to the side as a young Terran noble moved from the crowd, his clothing denoting him as one of the regent sons of a ruling house. Atlantean, if she tried to place his features, which were familiar... _oh_. A sudden snarl lit her features as she recalled precisely where she knew this man from, but what did The Witch mean by a union? What of her sister's claim? Her confusion only rose, as the strutting noble kneeled by the throne she stood before.

Voice cast to carry, the man spoke, "You have need of me, my Queen?"

Though her eyes glinted with some plan, Serenity's features mirrored her name. "Yes, Crown Prince of Terra. The Empire would offer you a great boon. To unify our broken peace, I offer you the chance to become unique among all others.

"It is within the power I posses to do something... unheard of. I hazard this for the benefit of all of Sol, and the Empire." Bringing forth the Silver Crystal, she raised it above her, as its light shone harsh against the already blindingly-white room. "Do you accept this charge? To protect your world, and work for the Empire's progress?"

Hand crossing across his heart, Endymion nodded once, gravely. "I do, my Queen."

Kinuran flinched, then fell to her knees as the Silver Crystal lanced her with its light, flooding her with weakness. As she watched transfixed, lungs refusing to work, heart stalled in her chest, the golden crystal that was her Star Seed – that which made her a Senshi by choice of her own world, not this tyrant Queen – was stripped from her. Collapsing to the ground in a heap, she watched in mute rage as the figurehead Serenity chose took the glowing shard in hand. "You filthy bitch," she managed, before one of the guards dredged up the courage to silence her with the butt of a spear to her temple.

"With this gift, I propose a union. Let this day mark the betrothal of my own daughter, heir to the Empire, to the Crown Prince and future King of Terra. From their joining, let the future of the Empire shine eternal!"

The cries of blasphemy and denial died on her lips, as Kinuran struggled to draw breath, futilely. Not that she could have been heard, over the great outcry of support from the Imperial Court and Solar Senate. Only the reassuring gaze of her long-time friend Pluto eased her hatred, with what those red eyes promised. She saw knowing, there, a future knowledge that the Senate had forbidden, in their wariness of her power.

Kinuran's expression must have been clear, as the woman mouthed a silent assurance. _"Your time will come. Trust me."_

With a final, heated glare at the beatifically smiling Serenity, Kinuran ceased her struggle, and sank into that waiting darkness, taking that promise of vengeance with her.

–


	8. Use Your Fist And Not Your Mouth

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Eight: Use Your Fist And Not Your Mouth

–

With a feral scream Ranma woke from her – somewhere, a water main was raining down on the area – unconscious state, desperately gasping at air as the last moments of her dream-self's death played out again vividly in her mind. Her hazy waking awareness brought the situation that had left her knocked silly back into focus, as she found a portion of a building's wall collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the ground. Still feeling the adrenaline from her dreaming, Ranma annihilated the fractured masonry atop her with a nova of unleashed ki, bursting out of the ruin with a hoarse scream of rage and an explosion of broken bricks and cement.

And before her, surprise painted on their features, stood two of the figures from her nightmare. Sight wavering, their short skirts and leotards shimmered between their current form and the more concealing, armored forms from memory. Blinking and swiping the blood from her eyes, Ranma looked again, seeing only a pair of women in skirts... but _knowing_ on some level they were the same people.

Panting, bleeding, concussed and half-deaf, Ranma squinted at the two fuku-clad women again, who stared back incredulously. Daring to take her eyes off of them for a moment, she looked around at the still-burning wreckage that had once been a city block. Cars were flipped onto their sides or roofs, paint, tires, fluids, and plastics burning freely around blackened frames. All around, small fires raged, feeding on the scattered scree left from the explosion that had ripped up what looked like an entire building, before flipping and dumping back on the ground. Bodies were strewn around like so much spilled rice, broken, blackened, and sometimes still burning in the wake of what had happened.

Shaking her head to dislodge the haze still muffling her thoughts and the blood from her eyes, Ranma focused once more on the images from her brief nightmare. "...forget her for now, there it is!"

Following the pointing blonde's – was that Uranus? – finger, Ranma fought to see what they were looking at, and blinked.

A child, in the wreckage below. Obviously anxious, clearly injured, and staring at the devastation around her with clear confusion.

Obeying instinct, Ranma marshaled her strength and sprinted down the rubble, scooping up the frightened girl who had been rooted on the spot. With a surging leap, she managed to clear the blast crater before the twinned elemental attacks she'd felt building from the Senshi struck where the child had been. Falling into familiar patterns born of long conflict, Ranma flickered between her jumps, moving faster than the untrained eye could see. Lighting on the ground beyond the center of the devastation, she put the shivering form in her arms down, as the two Senshi spotted her and perched on an overlook nearby. Ranma nearly snarled, as the blonde and turquoise-haired women struck a pose.

"Heralded by a new age, we are he-yeeaaa!-" Uranus's introduction was cut short, as Ranma sent a concentrated orb of ki uprange, destroying the already tenuous footing they'd settled on in a burst of exploding masonry.

"Talking ain't a free action!" Ranma spat after the two, pooling another orb of ki in her left hand as she tracked their decent to the pavement. Her second Moko Takabisha sent the two sprawling, as they hadn't had a chance to get to the ground yet before it erupted underneath them. Still rattled from her own injuries during the recent explosion, the redheaded martial artist showed no hesitation to connect the figures before her with those from a trauma-induced dream. "Don't tell me that the Silver Witch had _monologuing_ as a battle tactic in her reform academies, first-loser!"

Uranus, having never encountered a human having trained as extensively as Ranma before, made the jump in logic that the redhead was aiding the being behind her, that was masquerading as a young girl. In her experience, it made sense – the smaller figure was bending space-time in a horrific way around herself, while the larger was a veritable energy battery. "Damn. We must have been too late. That redhead has enough life-energy in her to light up a city block. One guess where she got it."

"Then we can't let them escape or use it," Neptune agreed, taking the initiative to call forth her Talisman. Using the artifact to augment her power, the aqua-haired Senshi called up and released a surge of elemental force in the shape of a sphere, with a cry of "Deep Submerge!"

Though she'd used the situational analysis earlier to distract herself, Uranus couldn't stifle the surge of abject hatred that had flared through her at hearing the taller, redheaded figure's words. Something about them just itched across her soul like haggard nails on skin. Despite it, she had a job to do, and wouldn't let Neptune have all the fun. Well-used to working with her lover, the blonde Senshi summoned and released her own elemental attack only a moment after Neptune's Deep Submerge. The bright ball of energy cracking and destroying the pavement in a foreboding rumble before emerging with a vengeance to detonate in front of the wary figure.

The two attacks did nothing more than disrupt an afterimage.

"What? Where-"

"Neptune! Behind you!"

Despite the black rage hammering with the beat of her pulse behind her eyes, Ranma discarded the urge to use lethal force, as she slammed a falling elbow strike into the aqua-haired woman's neck. Staggering the Senshi, the redhead wrapped her forearm across her throat, pulling her up and between herself and a livid Uranus. "Alright, first-loser. 'Less you want your pretty little girlfriend here to lose her head," Ranma wrenched her locked arms once, eliciting a strangled cry and more weakened flailing from her hostage, "drop the sword and back the fuck up."

"You hurt her, and I'll kill you!"

Ranma sneered at the blonde. "You tell me what the hell you were doing attacking a kid, and maybe I won't pop her pretty little traitor head off like a dandelion."

"Why you-!"

"_Stand down!_" The sheer force of the order from the trio's left, nearly wrote the end for Neptune's Senshi as Ranma reacted on instinct to tighten her already suffocating hold to pull her around between the noise and herself. Sparing a brief glance to that side while repositioning her human shield, the bleeding martial artist felt a new wave of irrational anger washing through her.

Unlike Uranus and Neptune, who she recognized but had obviously changed somehow, this figure hadn't so much as aged a day since the last time she'd seen her. Long green hair flying free in the heated wind to her waist, deep red, flashing eyes, dusky skin, and a glare that could peel the paint off a starship's hull. "Pluto," Ranma greeted in a glacial tone. "I see the Bitch-queen got her hooks in you finally too."

Shock spread across the face of Pluto's Guardian, as she finally managed to take in the figure holding Neptune hostage. Bleeding heavily from a scalp wound that left half her face and one eye a red-glazed ruin, the petite woman's tone and demeanor was familiar, if younger than she'd recalled from memory almost fifteen millennia old. Of course, there was a more recent reference, one she kicked herself for not noticing earlier. Her clothes were modern, recent even, consisting of a pair of loose jeans and a hooded jacket, but it was the icy glare that she recalled most familiarly. It was one she'd never been on the receiving end of, however. "You..."

"Me," the redhead agreed, narrowing her stormy blue eyes. "Miss me, Setsy? Forget your old penpal Kinuran, while licking The Witch's boots?"

Pluto flinched back at the venom in those words, her mind reeling at what she was seeing, and had missed earlier that very day. "It must have been my preoccupation with the Gates," she thought frantically to herself, mind a-whir. Finally able to marshal herself, the Senshi met the burning glare directed her way. "But... How? Forget how, _when_ did you come back?"

The redhead laughed, causing another spasm in her hostage with the sudden motion. A warning glare at Uranus stalled her sudden shift, her foot grinding against the gravel warning enough for the unbalanced martial artist. "Oh, come on Setsy, you remember what The Witch used to think of me as. C'mon," the now manically grinning young woman prompted. "Tell me, for old-time's sake."

"She called you a bad coin," the beleaguered Guardian replied only a moment later, her voice quiet and troubled. "She used to say, no matter how she spent you, you'd always just turn back up."

Ranma laughed again, quieter, bitterly. "So it is really you. I guess that proves it. I'd almost hoped you were just a phantasm, a dream, or another of the damn Witch's tricks."

Setsuna tried not to react to those words, but failed ultimately as she looked away from the figure she too was hoping to be a phantom, though for entirely other reasons. Her anger stabbed at the woman's heart like a burning knife. "Kinuran, I'm still me, alright? Please give me a chance to explain things..." Ranma reacted not at all, forcing the elder Senshi to tuck her rod against the crook of her arm and bow severely. "Please!" The redhead regarded the woman evenly for a moment, before nodding tersely.

"Fine, I guess I owe you that at least," the redhead allowed, her head a blazing nightmare of half-remembered memories and the simpler pain of her recent injuries.

The Senshi of Pluto ignored her blonde teammate's incredulous gaze. "Thank you. This will all make sense soon."

"Man, I hope so," Ranma allowed, letting her grip on Neptune loosen slightly thinking her captive too slack, giving the woman access to more air. Neptune capitalized on his by trying to elbow Ranma in the stomach and attempting to twist away.

Irritated but unphased, Ranma forewent a forearm press, and simply wrapped her fingers around the woman's trachea, digging them into the taller Senshi's throat. She could feel the breath rasping through her fingertips, and the rapid thrumming of the woman's pulse hammering along the outside of her fingers. For all the sudden intimate knowledge she had of Neptune's inner workings, it was a bloodless hold, doing little damage. Yet. While her body moved on a near automatic response – if a bit more brutal than usual – Ranma mulled over something else.

She wasn't dead. She wasn't on the _Grace_, or her ship the _Pandemonium_, or... anywhere familiar. But she _was_. This was Juuban, in Minato ward, a suburb of Tokyo. On Terra... no, _Earth_. This was a few blocks from the hospital that Akane was staying at, and the other side of the ward from her new home. Her name wasn't Kinuran, but Ranma.

And yet, here the Senshi were, in a very familiar situation. There Setsuna was, though her uniform armor had taken a turn for the ludicrous if that was how she... or rather _they_ as Senshi managed now, Ranma noted as she let her mind take in details outside of the tactical. All this was however done in the flash of a moment. She was ready when her friend-turned-possible-enemy spoke again.

"I know you're... disoriented. I know those two were going off the handle and not getting all the information on what they were doing."

"Hey," Uranus butted in, sending her teammate a glare that spoke volumes. "Who's side are you on? That _thing_ over there," she accused, pointing a finger at the diminutive child nearby, "was eating the back of a car! It's been leeching energy out of the air this entire time! If that doesn't make it a Youma, what the hell does?

"And why aren't you helping me!" The blonde finally snapped at the uncertainly wavering Guardian of the Gates. "That... _thing_ there you're on a first name basis with has been tossing insults-"

"Deserved," Ranma chimed in, getting a twitch from the Senshi of Air.

"-and has Neptune as a body-shield-"

"Least she has a body to speak of," the redhead goaded again, causing the blonde to spin on her.

"Shut up!" Pointing, Uranus took a step forward before recalling the situation. Falling back an equal step which severely cost her, the Senshi faintly vibrated with anger. Turning back to Pluto, she asked again, "Why aren't you helping us?"

The Senshi of Time regarded her teammate with a level gaze. "Because you were wrong."

"What? How-"

"That 'thing' as you keep calling her, is a machine of sorts, not a Youma," Pluto continued, before turning her attention to the redhead who held a gasping Neptune in a fierce grip. "And she's a former... friend of mine. And a martial artist, not a monster," she relayed carefully, not wanting to exacerbate the current standoff.

Ranma looked between the two, taking in their words, and seeing a lot more than was spoke on the face of a woman she knew but also didn't. Though she really felt that taking a strips out of Uranus would make her feel better, with the appearance of Pluto, there were bigger concerns. She needed to talk to her, and soon – that is, if The Witch's Guardsmen didn't show up to crash the party... flinching, Ranma recalled how the moon was a barren rock and nearly lost her hold on the woman in her hands. What the hell was going on? Trying to grasp onto something stable, she fixed on the familiar form nearby, "You got them under control, Setsy?" she asked, masking her own wavering hold on herself, she hoped.

Pluto turned on Uranus, understanding the martial artist on a level neither would be willing to admit to. "Will you stand down, or does this need to escalate?"

Snarling angrily, Uranus's posture went passive. "Fine! Whatever!"

Nodding to the emerald-haired woman, Ranma loosened her grip. With a palm to Neptune's back, she sent her forward with a small shove.

That was Ranma's intent. Neptune gave the final signal to her partner with a complex system of hand and foot motions, easily written off as fidgeting, that they'd developed some time ago working together alone. It was for occasions like this, and had served them well in the past.

Once they handled the situation, it would be easier to figure out what had happened to their friend. Dusting the Youma came first.

Ranma's hand contacted the ducking teal-haired Senshi's shoulder, rather than the middle of her back, and spun her around. The motion carried through, and left her aiming her mirror at Ranma as she called out a hasty, "Shine Aqua Illusion!"

An answering scream of "Space Sword Blaster!" followed, aimed at a different target.

Neptune's attack never manifested beyond a glimmer in her mirror, which was now bisected in half along its length. Ranma stood stone-faced before the woman, watching as the light went out of her eyes, her transformation fading as she dropped to the ground in a dead faint. Seeing that Neptune's Senshi was no longer a threat, the redhead released the blade of vacuum she'd contained along the outer edge of her forearm. She didn't want to kill the woman, regardless of her affiliation, but breaking her toys wasn't remotely a problem in her book.

A pained scream from nearby was followed by a strangled cry of "Michiru!" before Ranma could react. She did however, find the source.

When she saw the little girl's face, eyes widened in shock as she regarded the missing portion of her arm from just above the elbow, it was all she could do not to turn and start painting the nearby landscape in Senshi blood. The red haze lifted from her vision as she took note of the position of Pluto in regard to the enemy she decided to start demonstrating balance to first, by ripping her arm of and beating her senseless with it.

Pluto stood stoically over the figure of Uranus, who had fallen backwards from some blow the redhead assumed. More interesting was the fact that Pluto's staff, normally in configuration she vaguely recalled augmented her magical abilities, had been 'deployed' into a more intimidating mode. The end-cap, normally resembling a hollowed heart, had rotated then split along its pointed end, leaving it resembling a trident with the Garnet Orb flashing angrily at its center, a contained hum of power writhing within. Uranus was left staring that vortice of power down, no more than a hand's width from her eye. "When I order you to stand down, Uranus, I expect to be obeyed."

"But she..." the blonde trailed off as the Orb's flickering hum solidified into a low, thrumming wail that made her ears itch.

"It wasn't a request. You were _badly_ out of line. The Princess will hear about this," Pluto left off ominously, returning her attention to the nearby redhead who was tentatively approaching a distraught and panicky 'child'.

Hands up in a neutral, hopefully non-threatening posture, Ranma stepped slowly to the whimpering little figure, taking in her appearance as she did so. Affirming Pluto's statement earlier, the girl wasn't bleeding from her lost limb, but that same loss seemed to make her just as shocked and reactive as Ranma would expect from a normal child. The little girl was maybe eight or nine, if appearances were to be believed, and didn't look very healthy. Her skin was sallow and pale, and her posture seemed weak and weary. Scraggly, tangled black hair sat in knots around her her head, with the fringe of her bangs hiding her eyes. She was clothed in a cast-off little dress, over a dirty and scratched up looking full-body leotard in a matte gray. Ranma winced as the girl whimpered again, catching sight of her own lost limb.

That wince became a stifled groan, equal parts anger at Uranus and sympathy for the little girl when she tried to hold her mangled lower arm up to the wounded remnant, with the expected lack of effect. Swallowing thickly, Ranma put on a clearly strained smile, "Hey, um... do you want some help?"

The little girl turned to face her, backing up a step till she recognized the figure that had helped her earlier. Whimpering again, she gestured feebly to her arm and muttered something inaudible before shivering hard.

Pluto observed the interaction between the two and sighed. Turning her attention to Uranus she disengaged the Key and moved it away from the other woman's face. "Get Michiru and get the hell back home. You've done enough damage today."

Uranus winced but stood up to her fellow Senshi, "Look, the brat told us last month that we can't ignore local problems just because we're not fighting off some interplanetary boogeymen. Even small problems need a solution. That's all we were doing."

"You were running into another situation without information, shooting first and asking questions later," Pluto snapped back, before massaging her temple with a free hand. "Uranus, I respect you. I do. If I didn't, I'd never let our little houseguest stay near you."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Do you really think I could completely pull one over on the Japanese government?" Cocking a brow at the shorter blonde, Pluto heaved a sigh. "The guardianship of that girl is in my name, you recall. There's no way you could have adopted her, being only a year older than the other girls yourself."

Silent as she collected her fallen lover while thinking on the implications of those words, Uranus paused, seeing the broken mirror. "How...?"

Pluto dismissed the shattered talisman with a glance. "It will reform in time. She was just knocked out by the backlash. It's happened before." Turning her attention back to the petite redhead who was unsuccessfully trying to calm down a distraught little girl, she continued. "This kind of thing needs to stop. Being Senshi is not a blanket pass for vigilantism. It isn't a power than should be abused, and certainly isn't a position that gives you some kind of divine mandate to pass judgment on random innocents, just because you're personally too high-strung to logically assess a situation!"

The blonde Senshi flinched back at that, realizing those points were meant for her – and ones her lover had warned her of, as well. "We... I... I just want to help. To do something, not sit around and wait for the next problem."

"Then don't just sit around," Setsuna offered in exasperation. "But for the sake of my sanity start thinking!" Gesturing out at what remained of the nearby area, she continued her tirade, "Live your life! Race! Help our young friend grow! Hell, finish your college entrance exams and get a degree! This world isn't ending anytime soon, Uranus, and being a Senshi isn't a career, despite the severity it brings our lives.

"Luckily no lasting damage was done today," Pluto stated in a more even tone as she discreetly moved between the two groups, as they neared one another.

Ranma snapped her head up at that. "The hell you say! Look at her arm!"

"Kinuran-"

"Ranma," the redhead firmly corrected, eyes narrowed. "Kinuran is dead."

Pluto flinched at the young woman's tone, before bowing her head slightly. "As you wish. Her arm will heal – it's within the scope of her abilities. She may simply not know it yet."

Dubious, Ranma nodded. "Alright..."

The emerald-haired woman returned her attention to Uranus. "Take Neptune and go. Find the Princess. Tell her we have things to discuss tomorrow."

"No shit," the blonde grumbled, shooting her teammate a foul look.

It was at that point that a number of things clicked in Ranma's mind. "_Wait_... wait just a damn minute," she snapped, looking up at Uranus, the woman in her arms, and the taller figure of Pluto nearby. Pointing at the fallen Senshi, Ranma took in her features, actually paying attention. In almost the same moment, Uranus came to the same conclusion and their eyes met.

"You!"

Ranma then turned her eyes to the woman she'd spent most of that morning with, as her jumbled memories locked into place. "Oh for the... is this one of your little jokes, Setsy? Because I'm really not amused!"

Shaking her head hard, the dusky-skinned woman denied such a thing. "Hell no. I'm not a masochist." Ranma raised a delicate brow. "Shut. Up."

Putting her moment of humor aside, Ranma returned her attention to the situation at hand. Gritting her teeth, Ranma shot Uranus – Haruka, she reminded herself – a glare that promised pain in the future, but showed clear resignation. "Alright. Well, at least I know where to find you when I decide to come collect for this crap," the martial artist muttered, returning her attention to the child that had latched onto her sleeve with her remaining hand. "Got bigger things to deal with right now."

Pluto could only nod, not trusting herself to express her own opinion whether in agreement or disagreement at that point.

–


	9. Interface Me

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Nine: Interface Me

–

Things just couldn't settle down into anything like normal, Ranma groused as she carried a pair of newly-bought microwave ovens and a hammer up a flight of stairs. "Why'd we need these again?"

"You'll see," Setsuna offered, now in her civilian clothes – which equaled her dress jacket and skirt from earlier that day. To say Ranma felt not only under-dressed but like some kind of domestic violence advertisement was an understatement, considering she still had blood on her face, singed patches in her hoodie, and a combination of soot and mud caking her pants up to the knees.

Then there was of course the news crew waiting outside the blast area, which shot any ideas of maintaining her anonymity in the foot. She expected the Joketsuzoku to be around by five the next evening. The redhead made a note to call Nabiki and let her go ahead and sell the information for a commission – maybe some good could come of this. That thought caused the martial artist to peer to her right, meeting an equally surreptitious gaze from her companion, who was currently carrying the small girl from earlier. "Well, more than some," she reconsidered to herself.

Still, Setsuna's presence couldn't be considered a wholly positive thing, the redhead mused internally. Things had just gotten massively more complicated. This morning, all she had to worry about were Ranma's issues. Fiancees, family, finances, school, and her School. Gross simplifications of a mass of problems that at best, would result in a lot of broken friendships, honor, and hearts, and at worst her life. Now, she had Kinuran's memories, impulses, instincts, and habits creeping up on her, as well as the complications of the Senshi past and present. And she knew damn well if Setsuna was involved with them, she'd be as well before the week was out.

That was a whole other thing to think on, and one she wasn't prepared to deal with quite yet.

As for the reason she was still female... Ranma actually shuddered at the idea of resuming her birth form, currently. Too many memories as a woman had just been stuffed sideways into the martial artist's head, and right now mismatching her gender to them just seemed like a quick ticket to a long stay in a padded room. Once 'Kinuran' was settled, she'd switch back. The redhead shot another glance at her companion, getting the expected 'We really, _really_ need to talk' look in reply.

"Might be a while then," Ranma muttered to herself tiredly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Setsy," she replied automatically, grimacing afterward. "This is going to play hell with school, I just know it."

The taller woman laughed wryly. "Maybe I should take a vacation."

"Like hell," the redhead muttered. "If I have to go back to school after having thirty years of Terran Space Academy shoved in my skull, you're sure as hell coming with me."

Setsuna snapped her attention to the young woman at her side. "You recall all that?"

"All? Nah," Ranma muttered, wincing at her headache as they made the top landing inside a darkened house she'd entered without much notice sometime during her thoughts. "Comes and goes. Right now it's just enough to make my head feel like scrambled eggs."

The dusky-skinned Senshi smirked. That seemed to be the usual reaction most of the other Senshi had to their returning memories as well. "Well, whatever you recall certainly can't hurt. Your academics this time around are rather... amusing."

"Oi, laugh it up," the bloody young woman groused irritably. "Unless you've spent a few years getting beat on by wrinkly old men with bad tempers, I can still kick your ass seven ways to Sunday – and that's without my tap engaged." Ranma flinched. "...if I still had it."

"Well it just so happens..." Setsuna trailed off at the almost hungry gaze Ranma was leveling at her. "Um. Why don't I make us some tea?" She offered with a nervous laugh, opening the door to a small upstairs den and feeling an unnamed need to dodge that particular bullet.

Ranma nodded, then shifted the microwaves in her arms, more for a need to see than any discomfort at their negligible weight. "What about this stuff?"

Indicating a direction with a tilt of her head, Setsuna began walking. "There's a guest bedroom where she'll be alright. Leave them in there with her and the hammer."

Blinking in confusion, the redhead recalled the taller woman mentioning the little girl was actually some kind of machine. Still, the whole thing seemed kind of... callous. She paused, standing in that doorway while the little girl stood beside her, hand tucked in her jacket again like she tended to whenever given the chance. "Shouldn't we... I dunno, stay with her? She doesn't seem all that well, Setsy."

The Senshi grimaced as she considered that and her companion's current mental confusion. Machine or not, the little girl certainly looked like a child. Rounding the corner of the kitchen, she took in the scene of Ranma ruffling the girl's hair lightly, while the seeming child clung to her and knew this had to be taken care of first. Taking the girl's remaining hand, she lead her back into the room. "Well, to be honest right now it won't do much good. She may not even be linguistically capable, and certainly has no concepts of social behaviors programmed," the woman noted, settling the machine in the guise of a child down on the simple bed in the guest room. She smoothed the youth's hair back, taking in the deep amber eyes blinking back at her. "Comforting her won't work – she has no concept of it yet. I vaguely recognize her model, I think. She'll understand basic commands in Lunarii, but that's it."

"Up to you then," Ranma pointed out with some bemusement at what had been explained. "I'm still a bit rusty I wager at speaking a language I learned before I died last time."

"Guess that's one definition of a dead language," the emerald-haired woman muttered with some mirth. "Fine, lets see if her core functions are alright and at least get a name.

"_Please state unit identification_," she directed at the small figure, causing her attention to snap onto the Senshi's face.

"_TN-R0-Z348829,_" the small girl chimed in a musical voice in way of reply.

Ranma tilted her head, then grinned. "Tenrou. Suits her."

Considering Ranma's statement and apparent understanding of Lunarii, Setsuna had to agree. She was somewhat surprised at the redhead's grasp at the language she'd just a moment before claimed no talent in. "Full of surprises," she commented with a smile to Ranma, before addressing her small guest. "_Command access request_."

The small child tilted her head curiously. "_Limited provisional access granted. Administrative functions locked_." The girl looked to Ranma for a moment. "_Please verify or deny access from primary Administrator._"

Setsuna raised a brow. "Apparently she likes you," the woman noted dryly. "She's picked you as her primary user."

"I noticed," Ranma muttered with a sigh. This just took the cake. In broken, halting Lunarii, she replied, "_Access granted to Setsuna Meiou, unless otherwise stated_."

"_Accepted_," the little girl chirped. "_Will you please state your preferred address, Administrator?_"

"Ranma Saotome," the redhead replied.

"_Imprint file updated, address accepted,_" she replied with a content smile.

Setsuna blinked. "Um. Imprint? Clarify."

"_Biometric imprinting is required for proper operation,_" the child-machine stated primly, examining her empty sleeve with something verging on annoyance.

Something about that tickled the woman's memory, but she didn't waste time on it currently. There was a lot left to cover that night, and this was just the appetizer. "_Fine. Command access – current unit identification adjustment. Backup current identification value. Rewrite current value to Tenrou. Acknowledge._"

Blinking up at Setsuna once, the small figure nodded. "_Unit identification is now set to 'Tenrou'._"

The Senshi nodded once. "_Alright. Those,_" she indicated the microwaves that had yet to be unpacked, "_are for you. Use the hammer to render them more... digestible. Then enter a maintenance cycle for one-third current planetary revolution._"

"_Acknowledged,_" the newly named Tenrou chirped, taking up the hammer with an eager look on her face.

Setsuna turned to a bemused Ranma. "We should probably leave her alone until tomorrow. This could get messy."

The resonating clang of a hammer striking a doomed appliance punctuated her sentence, eliciting an amused expression from the observing redhead. "Well, I feel better at least," turning, she made her way back to the kitchen before grimacing at her state of dress. Or rather, the state of her dress. "You know, this furniture looks kind of expensive."

Humming in thought, Setsuna shrugged. "Something like that."

"Got a change of clothes?"

"Ugh, right. Forest for the trees," the taller woman muttered, stalling at pouring some water for the redhead's tea as she too noticed the ruin that Ranma was wearing. "There's a small bathroom connected to my room, go start a shower, and I'll find something for you to wear."

Ranma favored the woman with a warm smile, leaning forward from where she stood to lay a light kiss on the taller, still-seated woman's forehead. The two women froze at the familiar gesture, until the redhead cleared her throat and made a hasty retreat into the bath, face inscrutable. For her part, the elder Senshi tried to keep her own returning memories still, not daring to hope for something she'd worked thousands of years for, even if it was put in her reach.

Ranma stood in the shower – cold by her own decision – leaning against the tile as her head swam with memories she'd never made and questions she'd likely never have the answers to. A mirthless laugh bent her features into a parody of a smile. "And here I am, trying to start over somewhere normal, put all the madness behind me just to jump into something worse."

"It isn't so bad," a quiet voice interrupted the martial artist, though she recognized it easily enough. It bothered her more than she'd admit that Setsuna bypassed her instincts for danger, her senses automatically registering her as a non-threat.

"More leftovers from Kinuran," the redhead thought with narrowed eyes, as she forced herself to relax under the chill spray. "For all my screaming at her earlier, I still don't... _she_ still didn't think of her as an enemy. The hell is going on with me..." she wondered to herself silently.

"The Senshi handle most problems without much notice from the world around them. If you wanted, you could ignore them the same way the rest of Juuban does, and no one would blame you," Setsuna prattled on, oblivious to the internal war being waged in front of her.

Dredging herself out of her thoughts, Ranma rejoined the conversation. "Others wouldn't, but _I_ would," she replied tiredly. "I can't just sit by and let people get hurt. If I _can_ do something, I _will_."

Setsuna shook her head slowly. That was pure Kinuran. "Not every fight has to be yours."

Ranma barked a hoarse laugh from under the cold spray she rested in. "Now you sound like mom." The martial artist could practically feel the curiosity rolling off the woman on the other side of the frosted glass, and considered the wisdom in humoring her. Then again, this was Setsuna Meiou – Senshi of Pluto, Guardian of Time, and Overwatch of the Time Gates. If she wanted to know bad enough, Ranma knew she would, even if she didn't quite understand why the certainty in her heart was just that.

"Long story short, mom got worried after a big fight I had, that if things kept on like they were, she'd lose me," Ranma explained quietly, focusing more on the feel of the cold water running down her naked back and the rise of her hips than the words she was speaking. She needed that chill, right now. "Or, well, lose her chance at grandkids," the redhead bit out with more than a little venom in her voice.

"Harsh view."

Ranma nodded at the Senshi's succinct opinion. "True. But still, that's the bottom line. Best I can figure from talking with Nabiki about it, mom can't reconcile her idea of being a mother to me anymore. She's got too many expectations wrapped up in how I should be, what I should be – and I just don't match. All those instincts got dumped onto the idea of grandkids." Shrugging, the petite woman scrubbed the blood and soot from her hair, wincing as the shampoo irritated the wound on her scalp. "She failed with me, so wants to make it up through them. Doesn't matter much anymore, though."

"I see," the emerald-haired Senshi voiced, though in truth she didn't. Even taking Ranma's records into consideration, the situation she'd just learned of sounded strange. Likely, she amended, due to a lack of information. Something else to rectify in time, provided she had a chance. More pressing to her, was the tone Ranma used in regard to this Nabiki person. "Out of curiosity," she began with a careless tone, "who's Nabiki?"

Ranma paused, turning her head to regard the green-topped blur on the other side of the glass. "Remember all those fiancees I mentioned? Sister of one." She noted the indistinct figure of Setsuna nodding, and smirked, an odd impulse taking her. Leaning against the door, she let it open a sliver, giving her an unobstructed view of the emerald-haired woman. "Do I detect a hint of something in your voice, Setsy?"

Looking up from her thoughts at the suddenly clearer voice, Setsuna stared openly at the display she was given. Ranma's body was pressed against the glass, the chill there and in the water she was using clearly demonstrated by the state of her tightened nipples. Leaning on the glass, the redhead's form was on proud display, taut muscles with clearly defined tone under damp skin much clearer than the frosted glass a moment before had given her view of. In a surge of long-forgotten memory, Setsuna recalled a similar scene, from her youth. It was the start of the odd dance between the two – Kinuran and herself. Mouth dry suddenly at the view and that memory, Setsuna wrenched her gaze away from the display of appealing skin and lithe, toned muscles. "Curiosity? It was a question, after all," she finally managed to babble out, clearly discomfited.

The redhead blinked, recognizing Setsuna's awkwardness for what it was, backed by decades of memories not her own. "...yeah, whatever you say, Setsy," she allowed blandly, closing the door again and leaning away from the glass. They'd never been lovers – Setsuna and Kinuran – but they did share a bond. It wasn't for lack of affection that they never acted, but circumstances. Ranma nearly laughed at the idea, until she noted her own stuttering arousal at those thoughts. Memories, damn them.

"And I thought cold showers were supposed to fix this crap," she muttered, scrubbing harshly at her skin, trying to dislodge her thoughts along with the remnants of the soap there.

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing," she bit out, putting her head in the spray of water overhead. "I'll be out in a minute."

Setsuna felt more than understood the dismissal, Ranma's mood swing clear to her regardless. Frowning and feeling more than a little unsure, the taller woman nodded and silently left her guest to her own devices, the clothes she'd found for her folded and set on the nearby sink.

As she banged her head lightly against the tile, Ranma cursed roundly at her thoughts. _Kinuran's_ thoughts. The problem now wasn't so much that the woman's ghost had acted or behaved differently, but that she _didn't_. Hardly at all, in fact. It was deceptively easy to fall into those same instincts and habits, putting herself in those memories. Ranma tried to differentiate them, interposing her birth form over those situations, but... it changed nothing. Perhaps this is what the masters meant – those focused on meditation and transcending the anchor of the body. How, if in one life one left too much undone, took too heavy a burden of Karma into the next, it would follow. She certainly felt burdened, with those hundreds of years of memory burning their way across her brain now.

Yet, she was still Ranma. The martial artist considered that, and calmed. She didn't _need_ to do anything with this new facet of her existence. Kinuran was dead – she had no compulsion to take up that life again, or desire to do so. She could just as easily go home, sleep, and tomorrow return to class with nothing more than a vague discomfort around the figures of Haruka, Michiru, and Setsuna.

She laughed at that lie. She could no more shrug off the responsibility of this new knowledge any more than she could do so, if a random threat aimed itself at those she knew already. The words she'd spoken early echoed, in her own and a voice from memory. "If I _can_ do something, I _will_."

With that simple statement, she realized that it wasn't Kinuran's ghost she had to make peace with, but simply the impact of her memories and the life she'd left too soon. Her own life. Her memories. Turning the taps off, the petite martial artist stepped out of the chill shower stall and addressed her image in the mirror. A young, adolescent Kinuran stared back, the memory of that time in her life as clear as her own if she willed it. Yes she resembled Nodoka, but this was utterly different. This was a resemblance. This was a reality in reflective.

Shifting forward, she addressed the phantom behind her own eyes, leaning against the mirror with a tense hand. "Just because you're here, because I'm here... don't expect me to fall into that trap of fate," the martial artist warned, blue eyes flashing. "This is my life. Your life. Our life. We may have left some things undone, but that's long behind us. Some things remain to do... I know that much. We wouldn't be who we are, or were, if we could ignore that."

"I'm not going to waste this life." A half grin, one she felt another wanted to show, graced her lips. "Or this chance."

She stifled a laugh. "I'm glad we could have this talk. Lets just not make a habit of it, yeah?"

"Works for me."

Chuckling, Ranma inspected the clothes she'd been left, and began getting dressed. Setsuna's image flashed through her mind again, followed by the condensed emotion of a lifetime that had lasted longer than some nations. Love, lust, pain, betrayal, reconciliation, relief, anxiety, loss, despair... reeling, Ranma leaned on the basin and felt a few tears escape her eyes. Snarling, she scrubbed them away, cursing not her memories this time, but her utterly unprepared mind for them. For this. For now, and... what she was contemplating.

She laughed mirthlessly, looking up at the mirror to see a pitiful young woman, caught in a moment of harsh clarity. "God, and I thought I loved Akane..." swallowing thickly, Ranma considered that it was just memory. Just... but she'd not changed at all. Even now. The glances, the secret, private conversations. How easily she took to her presence while she bathed, and how simply she slipped through her defenses.

Ranma looked to her clothes once more, a shaky hope blooming in her breast. A simple tee and a pair of boxers... perfect. The redhead smiled. "No, not going to waste this chance..."

–

Setsuna sat and stared into her tea, wondering if she'd put enough bourbon in it to get her through what needed to be said soon. Her consideration on the excuses, explanations, and apologies she need to prepare died a hasty death as a pair of lithe arms circled her shoulders, and a breath of warm air whispered across her ear. "Suna," a familiar feminine purr lilted from behind her, the pleasant warmth of a distinctly female form pressed against her shoulders and back accompanying it.

She shivered, leaning into that presence out of instinct with her heart in her throat, her own arms reaching up and back before thoughts could be connected to action. She halted, seeing the amusement in Ranma's blue eyes before the younger girls lips slipped down to her own. The momentary warning bells that this woman kissing her was a student in the school she worked at were silenced, when the stifled memories of millennia of unfulfilled desire reared up to the fore. Neatly, she compartmentalized her work as nothing more than a surveillance mission, and covert resource for the Senshi. Nothing more, and nothing less. The student-teacher morality barrier died a brief and quiet death, unlamented.

Humming in mild disappointment, the dusky-skinned woman blinked her eyes open to the appraising glance of her companion as she pulled away. Smiling at the warmth she could see in those eyes above her, the Senshi reached up, tracing a finger along the curve of her chin lightly. "Feeling better?"

"Feeling whole," the redhead replied, letting her arms rest in a light embrace around the taller woman where she sat. She smirked slightly. "I can see why you cultivate that stoic mask." Seeing Setsuna raise a brow, the martial artist's expression grew into a playful grin. "You still blush like a Plutonian."

Setsuna laughed suddenly, swatting at the redhead. "Oh shut up."

"What?" Ranma dodged back easily, grinning impishly all the while. "I've never seen someone blush cocoa before. It suits you."

The Time Senshi wrinkled her nose cutely, a wholly alien expression from what she normally allowed herself. It amused and stunned her at how easily those old barriers, long-standing and timeworn, came down around her reborn friend. She reconsidered that after a moment's thought. "No, it shouldn't surprise me," she amended. "After all, it was all for this."

Settling not across the table, but in the chair nearby, Ranma favored the woman with a warm smile. "Sorry about earlier. I needed to come to grips with with some things, and it took a little effort."

Setsuna laughed quietly. "You realize that the others still haven't acclimated, right?"

Ranma shook her head, indicating a negative, while a distant part of her mind found the ease at understanding things better now definitely a welcome addition. Rather than congratulate herself on her expanded vocabulary thanks to Kinuran's experiences, she answered Setsuna's question, as she could. "Honestly, outside of memory, I don't even know much about these Senshi beyond what's been in papers and news."

"Really?" The taller woman blinked at that. "And you just moved to Juuban, but it wasn't because of...?"

"No, I... suppose I had my first memory as a dream, the day I settled in the ward," the redhead considered, then laughed. "First I recall, I mean. I'm almost sure now I've had others, before. Feels like longer ago than it was. Last night, in fact."

That pulled Setsuna's attention quite solidly away from the warmth she was feeling a moment ago. "What? Only a day?" Her mind reeled at that. The Gates had only been unlocked to her that long. Things were moving quickly, far more quickly than she had expected in fact. "No one else has handled recovering their memories nearly so well or quickly," she replied to Ranma, filling in the silence.

Ranma nodded, sipping her tea. "Well, honestly? This may be the weirdest thing to happen to me, but its not winning by a wide margin," she quipped with a grin, as Setsuna rose and moved to a small, nearby cabinet. "And like I said, it comes and goes. So, why don't you tell me what I've missed? You seem to be in the know."

"Long conversation in the making, there," Setsuna warned, getting a shrug in reply. Feeling it appropriate, she took out the bottle she'd doctored her tea with and a pair of glasses. "Luckily," she noted while turning and lightly kicking the cabinet shut, "I've got just the thing to get conversation flowing."

Ranma raised a brow at the implication. "I get the feeling I'm going to need a note for class tomorrow."

"Don't worry, I have a feeling the school nurse will be more than sympathetic," Setsuna assured.

–


	10. Put A Ring On It

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A gambit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Ten: Put A Ring On It

–

Setsuna eyed the bottle of bourbon intently before shrugging and pouring a small measure into a set of tumblers nearby. Scooting one in front of the redhead to her left, she lifted her own up in a brief salute before tossing it back. "You said earlier you didn't remember everything. Did something change?"

Ranma eyed her own glass before recalling that she used to drink seasoned field commanders under their bulkheads and drained her glass in short order. Her throat complained fiercely about the abuse, and the alcohol vapor stung at her mouth and sinuses in a familiar fashion. She smiled. "Something," the redhead allowed, tipping a bit more of the amber liquid into her glass. "I guess we came to an agreement."

Thinking those words over, Setsuna nodded. "I can see that. You were very adaptable, as Kinuran. I can only guess that's carried through."

"Honestly it feels sometimes, looking back on my life, like I was simply displaced wholesale," the martial artist noted quietly, contemplatively. "Had Kinuran been put in this life, she'd have played it out nearly how I have."

Setsuna snorted at that. "Maybe after she became a Senshi," the older woman corrected, pointing with the hand that held her glass. "Before you took up the mantle, Kin, you were a sneering, uptight, frigid bitch," the Senshi of Time accused, though there was a clear note of laughter in her voice. Ranma didn't correct her shift from referring to Kinuran as 'her' to 'you'. "And I think I was worse."

"Terran Academy," the redhead toasted with a sense of gravity. Setsuna followed her gesture a moment later. "Just to be clear, I'm still Ranma. Just got a lot more baggage now than I had yesterday, but that isn't changing."

Setsuna nodded, having expected nothing, but hoping for so much. She swirled the alcohol in her glass for a minute before commenting. "So, what does that mean? Ultimately?"

Ranma heaved a sigh. "I'm going to continue my life, as a priority. I have my own goals, this time. But... there's stuff I can't let go of. Kinuran's stuff, I mean. I've still got all that anger seething in the back of my head, and then there's what happened on the _Grace_..."

Lips thinning to a fine line, the Senshi nodded. "Endymion."

She managed not to snarl at the name. "Add to that what I know now," the redhead continued, gesturing at the sky beyond the small, intimate room. "The System is all but dead. When I... when Kin died, it was still thriving – sure, The Witch was driving some of the inner system worlds into the ground with her demands for materials to keep her fleets from falling behind, but I know she wasn't stupid. A power-mad, imperialistic, megalomaniac, but never stupid."

"I forgot you weren't there for the Fall," Setsuna mused quietly, shaking her head. "No, Serenity didn't drive the System into ruin on her own. Beryl helped move that along."

Ranma nodded to that before her eyes flew wide as her mind caught up with what had been said. "Wha... wait, wait, _wait_." Leaning forward, she licked her lips, forming her words with some care. "What exactly did my little sister _do_, after I died?"

Setsuna chuckled mirthlessly. "You recall the Great Old One we imprisoned in an inert containment cell, then dumped into the sun?"

The redhead fell back with a grimace. "Metalia? Shit. She got out?"

"And went for your sister," the older woman affirmed, her voice thick with memories. "She was a... prime target, after your death. I took no part in that battle, either time. I couldn't bring myself to do so, regardless of the threat."

"Either time? Tell me what happened."

She stared at her hands for a moment before taking a breath to begin. "Once your execution was made public, things went badly. Despite the Terran government's capitulation to Serenity's demands and the propaganda they were pushing, Terra was still essentially hostile. Seeing that your loss didn't break their spirit – in fact it made you something of a martyr – Serenity tried something different. Where vinegar didn't work, she tried using honey."

Ranma snorted in irritation. "What, wasn't her little experiment enough? I remember that idiot. Mother tried to set me up with him a decade earlier or so before the war, thinking a 'nice Atlantean boy' would settle me." The redhead wrinkled her nose in annoyance. "We all know where that lead."

Setsuna laughed at the memory. "Yes. You became something of a role model for the other Senshi, then. Casting off family and name, for your duty. I think only my sister and At'thela actually followed your example to the letter, however."

Recalling the first casualty of the forgotten war, Ranma grimaced. "One of the many things I can never forgive The Witch for. At'thela of Ceres didn't even get to die in battle like the warrior she was."

There was a moment of silence shared between the two old souls, as Setsuna refilled their cups. "Indeed. Back to your sister, however." Draining her new glass, she poured another, but let that one sit for the time being. "Serenity knew that her gesture with Endymion wouldn't assure Terra's good will. It was a political maneuver, and everyone knew it.

"But, it did secure Atlantis's support. Which gave her an idea, and... she had other Senshi to work with."

Ranma stared at the woman blankly, finally shaking off the stupor her allusion had caused. She drained her own glass before speaking, "She... she _whored out the Senshi_ to secure Terra?"

Setsuna sputtered at her companion's wording, coughing the sip of bourbon she's been attempting to drink out across the table in a spray. After a few minutes of combined laughing and coughing from her fit, she explained, "From an angle, it would certainly seem so. Endymion, as the appointed Prince of Terra, unified the planetary military at Serenity's suggestion. He then appointed a general for each of the ruling Houses that had control of a portion of Terra.

"The Shitennou – Four Heavenly Generals – took command of Terra's remaining martial strength and helped to unify the planet, at least to a degree. The general knowledge that Endymion – and therefore Serenity – had control of their own military might cowed most of Terra's dissent. At the same time, Serenity staged a number of galas and balls, always inviting them, and doing her level best to encourage her daughter's retinue to socialize," the elder Senshi stated with a roll of her eyes. "It appeared so damnably staged, yet somehow the ploy worked, at least partially. The rumors and celebrity-watching distracted people from the real issue until it had become a secondary concern, years later, then just faded into history." Grumbling irritably, the dusky-skinned woman pushed her drink aside. "She was so concerned with playing matchmaker and securing Terra and the Solar Senate that she missed the snake at her feet."

"I'm going to assume you mean Beryl, and I'll remind you that's my sister you're referring to as a snake, Suna," Ranma commented with a raised brow.

"Figure of speech," the Senshi dismissed, sticking out her tongue childishly. "But the point remains. Serenity was too busy playing host to her parties and doing her damnedest to make everyone forget the war by alcohol poisoning, that she missed one little detail in her grand scheme." Peaking her fingers before her as she leaned on her elbows, Setsuna met the redhead's eyes askance. "Recall who your mother shifted the marriage to, after you denounced your family?"

Ranma shrugged, the memory of those days feeling remarkably familiar to her own current life and problems and bringing with it a similar sense of mute frustration. "Well, since it was arranged and then finalized, it would have fallen... to... oh, hells."

"Serenity dissolved the arrangement, by right of her 'divine mandate'. Endymion was of course thrilled, being more interested in the status and power gained from his arrangement with Serenity's daughter, than Terra's former heir."

Banging her head on the table, Ranma concluded her little tantrum by leaving it there to throb against the cold marble. "You mean to tell me that because little sis ended up with my old engagement, which the Bitch Queen annulled, she called down a Great Old One and then wrecked the System?"

Setsuna blinked once, then nodded. "Basically."

"Karma," Ranma noted, taking the bourbon and drinking from the bottle this time. After the searing heat left her able to speak again, she concluded, "is a bitch."

It took Setsuna a moment to reason out the redhead's logic, though when she did, she was glad not to be attempting another drink. Cackling and nearly falling out of her chair, it took her a good five minutes to get her wind back. Eventually the emerald-haired woman snickered and grinned at her beleaguered companion, her wits about her once more. "Well," she finally managed to choke out, "at least now you know what you did to deserve all those engagements."

"Oh shut up," Ranma snapped, though it was without heat. And it did make sense, though she'd deny it if asked to her face.

Once the two had ceased their snickering, Setsuna leaned back with a sigh and a smile. "It's nice to have someone I can actually talk to about these things finally."

"What about Ohn'haru?" Ranma grimaced as the pre-Lunarii name rolled off her tongue coarsely. "Please don't tell me The Witch welched on the agreement with her. Actually, hell. How are the other Senshi even around? If their planets are dead..."

"I'll get to that in a minute," Pluto's Senshi stalled with a wince. "But first – Saturn's name is Hotaru now. She's... had a rough go of things so far."

Ranma's expression showed her understanding. "Damn. I always like Ohn. She was a damn fine commander, and I really respected her tactical know-how. Even before the war, we were close – but you knew that. She was one of the few of us that actually trained outside of our assignment. Not to mention she was the only other Senshi that could keep up with me in a bar."

"I'm not exactly a lightweight, you know."

"No, Suna, but you always ended up cutting out outings short by losing your clothes halfway through the night," Ranma reminded in a sing-song voice, that earned her a pair of ice cubes tossed down her exposed cleavage. Squeaking indignantly, the redhead glared at the smug figure across from her. "Well? It's true."

Setsuna sniffed and turned away, only to glare askance at the martial artist. "You know damn well it only happened in present company."

Ranma fished the ice from her shirt, though she made a bit of a production of it. Surreptitiously, she noted her audience's distraction and capitalized, pulling the loose, V-neck shirt she'd been loaned tight against her curves. Noting the sudden blush the Senshi sported, Ranma grinned at her success. "Maybe," she lilted with a purr in her voice. "Though I have to say, if I'm gonna properly recall those days, we need a lot more booze."

"Trying to talk me out of my clothes already, Ranma?" She nearly stumbled on the name, and hoped her companion didn't catch her slight hesitation. If she had, the redhead made no indication, as she slipped out of her own chair, draping an arm across Setsuna's shoulder as she settled in the taller woman's lap. She welcomed the petite woman by drawing her head down and greeting her with a searing kiss that spoke her intent clearly. There were kisses for welcome, for family, for dance partners, and for siblings. This kiss said clearly that she didn't intend to sleep alone, that night.

Without hesitation Ranma matched the heat she'd felt from her companion, reaching up to tangle a small hand in the woman's hair. It was from Kinuran's memory she took what skill she showed of her current level of intimacy, and despite the spontaneity of the situation, was thankful when she felt the woman under her hands respond. What lingering tension rested in Setsuna's body disappeared, leaving her warm and pliable, making small mewling noises as Ranma nipped at her earlobe gently between her teeth, her breath licking at the Senshi's ear.

Tentative, slightly tremulous hands slipped under the thin shirt Ranma wore, and defying all previous examples, she murmured appreciably to the hands that shyly, determinedly sought out the weight of her breasts. Her murmur became a sharp gasp as tanned fingers slipped one by one across the taut nub crowning the martial artist's breast. Each contact drummed across her senses like thunder, sending jolts down her spine which homed in on and ignited a more telling, if more subtle reaction and hunger.

Gentle lips and soft breaths became hungry kisses that lead to teeth raking across skin lightly. All the while, Ranma's mind sat in a calm, tranquil state betraying the heat of the moment.

She had loved this woman above everything else – except her duty – once. That duty had been played out, lived, died by, and finally discharged. She had fiancees. She knew this. She understood this. It was, after all, still her life. But did she love them? Had she been considering that question with more than a fragment of her attention, the redheaded woman would have laughed rather than made a faint murmur against Setsuna's tongue where it played across the roof of her mouth, trying to tickle her.

How could she love an assassin from a people that willingly subjugated half their population into being little more than indentured slaves? Someone who had tried, for the first six months of their awareness of one another, to kill her over something as petty as a law built around pride and the ego of bitter old women. Was she supposed to suddenly find herself returning the claimed love of that same assassin, when her attitude turned a sharp one-eighty, on suddenly discovering her birth gender? She may be ignorant in many things, but Ranma wasn't a fool. She no more loved Shampoo than she loved Happosai.

Correction. She actually was rather fond of the old man, now that she understood how to handle him in a civil way. Shampoo was simply a nuisance, and a long string of mistakes that needed correcting.

Ukyo was another laughable situation. It may have grown into something else had they been given time and a chance, but she knew damn well that whatever they could have had once, would never be now. Forgetting the woman's starkly different goals than Ranma's own for the future, there was one glaring problem. Ukyo, like most of those people she'd left in Nerima, had a delusion that made her think that she knew better what Ranma wanted and needed, and was best for the martial artist, disregarding everything Ranma said or did. This was starkly illustrated by her actions at the aborted wedding recently. Maybe she wouldn't have been happy with Akane, after they got married. She could definitely see that now, but that wasn't the point. _It. Was. Not. Her. Choice_.

And she'd never understand that. Sure, Ranma knew Ukyo cared for her. Loved her. Had devoted a decade to the goal of – and here we go again – tracking the martial artist down and either marrying or killing her. Which, sadly, put one of Ranma's best friends firmly in the same camp as a backwater tribe full of murderers and sore losers.

Akane... bitterness welled up in Ranma's heart, and betrayal was its flavor. She could think on the girl no further, anymore. Their time was passed. That was all she needed.

Ranma pulled back from the quickly accelerating state of intimacy she was hurtling toward, seeing the haze in deep red eyes born of lust and relief and affection. With a wry grin, she retrieved her hands from where they'd strayed, taking in the sight of Setsuna's bared shoulders and the rise of her breasts from her parted shirt with a sense of hunger that had nothing to do with food. Leaning close, she could see many of the same things reflected in her own blue eyes, that she'd seen in Setsuna's.

The searching gaze seemed to snap the taller woman back into the present, and she blushed prettily, her skin bronzing. "R-Ranma..."

Chuckling quietly, the redhead kissed at the Senshi's lips lightly, stalling her. "Did I ruin the mood?"

Shaking her head fervently, almost frantically, the Senshi of Time wrapped her arms around the petite form in her lap. "No, not at all... but there's more. Much more you need to hear." Another kiss tried to silence the woman, only to be met with her arms untangling, her palms pushing Ranma back lightly. "Down, girl."

"Is it so important?" Ranma didn't whine. She didn't. She was just at an uncomfortable angle and her breath caught oddly.

"You may regret what you were getting ready to do," Setsuna very quietly stated, causing Ranma to assess the woman intently. This was not the Setsuna she recalled. She was determined, driven, sure, and nearly prideful in her certainty sometimes. And she had every right to be. This timid, almost shrinking wariness made her blood cool and her passions abate slightly. Whatever was on her mind, was serious.

If the woman who'd waited as long as Setsuna had, needed more time, then she'd give it to her. "Alright, Suna. Tell me."

"I just hope you forgive me," the Guardian murmured, steeling herself as she closed her eyes and took a fortifying breath. Refusing to dance around this issue, she spoke frankly. "I had to break the Third Taboo."

Ranma went deathly still, not even daring to breathe. "You... what...?"

"Five times."

She was up on her feet and pacing as her mind reeled, before the echoes of Setsuna's words died off. "The... you _used_ it?" Ranma searched Setsuna's eyes for some hint of lie or trickery. Some scrap of reassurance what she was hearing was false. She received none.

"How... you..."

The Taboos were rules the Sol Senate had imposed on the Senshi of Time when the Gates were created. Fear of the power they allowed had forced the hands of the scientists of the time, causing them to hard-code certain restrictions into the Star Seed of the one who would be bound to those unbelievably powerful artifacts.

The First Taboo forbade the Guardian from allowing through direct action or inaction for one to pass through time. It was fundamental to their duty to maintain the sanctity of time, not pose as glorified subway attendants. Paradox would be invoked, locking a timeline into a path that could be damning, ultimately, and could result in space-time tearing.

The Second was no less dire. Using the Gates to gaze to the future, picking out probable paths as if window shopping for the best dress for a dance. The chance for time to flux and the Temporal Carrier – that fundamental force that was Time – to abandon those less probable paths was too high. Possible futures that had lost that driving force found themselves burning out their limited energy, succumbing to the cold death of entropy within years.

Finally, the Third Taboo – stopping time. Even with the Gates under her control, the Senshi of Time couldn't stop time throughout the entirety of the universe. The result was a small, localized bending of the fabric of space-time, that had to be done precisely and with absolute control. Anything less would result in a tear in the literal universe, an event that even scientists of Kinuran's era – the same that had produced those same Gates –balked at theorizing about.

Each Taboo had a penalty. But the Third... "How can you be here?" Ranma asked, her mind reeling with the knowledge of those limits and the damage breaking them could cause. Long ago, a young Setsuna had confided her fear at the temptation to use those same Taboos – and she'd assured the woman that she was smarter than that. That nothing would happen, to tempt that risk. And yet, here she sat, reconciling those two women with little success. "How?"

Setsuna sat up straighter, her chin tilted up till she was looking to the light above the table. Reaching up, she pulled down her left lower eyelid slightly, exposing a faint number in Lunarii.

Ranma stared at that faint trace until her mind seized on it, and its meaning. "Seventeen. You're a clone?"

The Senshi nodded, meeting Ranma's gaze with her own, matching fury and disbelief with a hollow anticipation. "My seventeenth incarnation as Setsuna Meiou. Every time I pushed those limits, the Taboos took their toll. I used forbidden technology scavenged from the ashes of the Empire to alter my own Star Seed, and a cloning facility I'd secretly installed in Charon Castle to maintain this existence."

"But," Ranma groaned, her mind simply moving too fast for her. "Each time you lose something. The clone process was banned because-"

"A human mind couldn't comprehend the idea, resulting in madness. Clones couldn't be made to resume their lives, up to the point of death of the original," Setsuna interrupted, knowing these limits intimately. "I sacrificed a portion of my mind for an interface, letting me always be in connection to the Gates, and therefore the facility and my next body." The emerald-haired woman laughed mirthlessly at the look of dawning horror on Ranma's face. "I told you – you'd regret it.

"My Senshi mantle keeps me sane, by containing the essential me, while the body synchronizes," Setsuna explained, smiling faintly. "So," she reached out, tracing a finger down Ranma's arm before the smaller woman jerked away. "Still want me?"

"How could you..." Ranma's voice found its footing, and roared out of the redhead in a bellow that shook the walls. "_How could you be so careless!_"

Laughing, the sound hollow and maddening, Setsuna continued, feeling the abyss of years yawning below her. Wasted time. Pointless effort. But she wouldn't deceive this person. Everyone else – without pause. Ranma, who bore her beloved's soul? Never. She'd become a monster more dangerous than Galaxia, but she'd be one openly, and be damned, before hiding. A smile on her lips, she added to the tally. "I broke the First Taboo."

Ranma's mouth worked silently, before her expression firmed. "How many times?"

"Currently, twice. Ultimately, four times that I am aware of, though paradox is odd that way."

The martial artist flinched away from the woman as if struck. "What else?"

"I may as well have forgotten the Second Taboo entirely."

Shaking, Ranma tried to reign in her leaping breath, fury lighting through her blood in a screaming chorus. "You... what was so _god damned important_ that you jeopardized every life in the System? Hell, the projections for the rip if it formed were in the thousands of light-years, Suna! What were you thinking!"

Setsuna's eyes were flat, as empty as her smile when she turned them to meet the furious glare Ranma sported. "That none of it mattered, anyway. Beryl won, Ranma. Kin." If she was to be damned, she'd do it wholly. "Beloved. It was all done. The Empire was dead and reduced to dust. You were dead, Ohn was dead, everyone was _fucking dead!_ I was locked in a geas that had me bound to the Gate for five thousand years! _Alone!_

"And then when Serenity's little mindfuck finally lets me loose, I'm stuck playing shell-games with what's left of the System's refugees, for a future I couldn't even see till I broke the Third the first time out of grief!" Hugging herself after her outburst, the woman choked back a sob, her hands spasming where they gripped her own shoulders. Admitting her sins was draining her, after coming so close – _so close!_ – to what she'd worked for. But she could not betray her again. Never again. "So yes – I broke the Taboos again, and again, until it became my only sanctuary. A future that wasn't an exercise in survivor's guilt. I wanted to end that god's forsaken torture. So, I picked a probable future that would let the geas only slowly drive me insane, but still not break it, in the hopes of waking you up.

"When the pressure from the binding got too much, I'd break the Third, to reset the geas," Setsuna muttered, voice hollow. Ranma looked on in horror as the woman bared her soul, holding nothing back. The horror was borne more from the scope of what Setsuna had to endure, rather than her actions, but the defining line was lost to the Senshi, who only saw the emotion not its direction. Feeling herself losing the war she'd fought so long, again, the floodgates opened and she let the words continue, damning as they may be.

"The only way I can subvert that binding is through killing myself with a Taboo until the spell latches onto my soul again. Do you know what it's like, to know the only way you can get a moment's freedom is to break everything you swore to protect? To die for a few month's leeway and peace?"

"So I worked to shape a future that I could for both agendas, juggling Time's sanctity, Serenity's geas, and hope that somehow I could pull a win out of a loss." The Senshi's eyes turned away, her gaze lowering. "Then Serenity's little time-bomb goes off and allows her daughter and her Guardians to be reborn. And I have to see all of them again, _but not you_.

"I had to stand by with my back turned as they killed your sister, again, because it was less chancy to simply stand aside than risk exposing myself and losing it all. There was no way I could have helped them – Beryl was like family to me too.

"I had to let Ohn be sacrificed, because Serenity's fucking paranoia over the Silence made it so she was blocked from the Gate, and I couldn't save her before she was possessed by some whore for _another_ Great Old One. Do you know, I had to set the Senshi against her myself? If I didn't, then that was it. The Old One would have happily turned this corner of reality into a buffet." Clutching at her head, the woman groaned at the memory. "You have no idea how much I hated myself for that. How much I still tear myself up over it, even now.

"I had to hope and pray she'd come out of it all sane, some day, and forgive me. And for once I got my wish. I've been looking out for her since like a daughter."

Catching her breath, the woman seemed to regain a measure of her strength. "But I risked a lot. Less than what the Taboos could bring, but enough. I put what life remained on Terra from the Empire's Fall on the line, on a bet. Who would win? Your connection to Terra, to protect it, or Serenity's witchcraft with the Silver Crystal binding Endymion?"

Ranma staggered, the true scope of what Setsuna had done becoming clear. "You gambled on Terra breaking Endymion's binding, to reforge my link, by putting Her at risk? What the hell kind of future did you find, Setsuna?"

The Senshi laughed mirthlessly. "Recall your English Literature, a poet named Robert Frost? Sufficed to say he stumbled on one of my more inebriated ramblings in a bar around 1919, and got an earful.

_Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great,  
And would suffice. _

"Pretty, isn't it," the woman commented with a self depreciating sneer. "I'd seen the fires of ships and entire continents burning from the first war. So this time, I decided to go with ice. The world, locked in a glacial hell, with only Serenity's half-trained daughter to keep the last scraps of humanity alive until she can revitalize a planet that refuses her.

"So yes, I had my own agenda," Setsuna snarled suddenly, life springing back into her eyes again. "Do you remember what I promised you?" Jumping to her feet, the woman grabbed hold of Ranma shoulders, shaking her out of her horror-induced fugue from what she'd admitted to. "Do you remember? Do you?"

"Yes," Ranma choked out, disentangling herself from the woman before her, drawing away from her fervor. "That last time in my cell, you promised I'd get my chance one day. I'd written it off as thinking you were just trying to make me feel better, before the end of it all."

"That was the first time I broke the Second. I looked ahead, and saw you. _This_ you. Ranma Saotome."

The redhead's mouth worked silently as she slumped to the floor boneless in her shock, until she got her wits about her with some effort. "You... risked ripping space-time apart five times, risked throwing this reality into a high-entropy, possible dead end, and invoked high paradox... for _me?_"

Setsuna stared the petite woman down. "What can I say? I love you."

Ranma laughed, a quiet, rueful sound. The true scope of what Setsuna had done whirling about and through her mind. For her. All of that... _for her_. Swallowing thickly, she looked up, her earlier rage forgotten. She had so many questions to ask still, but the frank terror at her possible rejection was clear in Setsuna's eyes. Questions could wait.

Without further pause, she stood shakily and stumbled into the other woman's embrace, an automatic thing. She refused to be moved away, clinging to Setsuna till she stopped fighting and pulled the other woman with her, away from the table and toward a room she'd spied across from where they left Tenrou. As she walked, the redhead answered hesitant hope she could see on her host's face with a growing smile. "I forgive you."

"But..."

Ranma turned and silenced her with a kiss. "Shh. Just promise me. Never again."

Setsuna nodded, her head down. "I've already turned the Gates off."

Relief spread through the martial artist, as she peered up at the taller woman in her arms. "The next time you want to prove you love me...

"Honey, next time just get me a ring."

–


	11. Time Enough For Love

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A ga__mbit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless __**she**__ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Eleven: Time Enough For Love

–

Ranma sat the taller figure of Setsuna down on her bed, pushing a glass of water into her hands, and while she was preoccupied, kissed her soundly. "Drink, I'll be back in a moment," she ordered, ducking out of the room before the Senshi could question or detain her. Her body working somewhat automatically, Setsuna did as her guest said, taking the water and slowly draining the cup. Only afterward did she recall the binges she and Kinuran had gone on, and similar scenes. "Forgot I was the emotional drunk," she mused, hearing the sound of activity through the upper story of her home as Ranma did whatever it was she was doing. It was somewhat comforting, after thousands of years playing the guide and overseer for the future, to have someone take care of her for a change. With those thoughts, Setsuna made her decision, setting down the glass on the nearby table and moving to her closet with a determined expression.

Though she was nervous and still had more questions, Ranma knew that staying up till dawn, tired and emotionally drained, didn't happen to be the best way to renew a friendship that had lasted longer than she wagered Cologne or Happosai had been alive. Nor was it the best mindset to be in, while considering taking said suddenly renewed friendship into the realm of the intimate. What questions she had could wait till later. Right now she had some of her own, and only she had the answers, and having Setsuna sitting in front of her had proven a very apt way to remove her ability to think with anything but her libido.

One of the most persistent issues revolved around her curse. The redhead knew that Setsuna was aware of it. Hell, the woman had been there this morning, when she was simply Ranma Saotome, bad student, recently displaced martial artist, and nervous transfer. Now, she was so much more... and that realization was telling on her more than a little.

She was attracted to Setsuna. That was a given – her body was quite adamant about displaying her appreciation of the taller woman's ministrations earlier. The question was, did Setsuna want her as Kinuran or Ranma? Did it matter, considering those two ideas were so similar? There were differences of course. Some she refused to think on at length currently, in fact, feeling it strange enough to remember a few centuries as a woman, much less that same woman's somewhat dubious exploits. In the space of a few hundred years, in a position of enviable power, with admirers on many worlds, Kinuran had made a small record in the way of past lovers, after her time in the Academy. Lovers, yes, but no romances, and to both men and women. Ranma understood the difference in sex and love, having had his mind opened up to the concept of physical intimacy by force some short while after arriving in Nerima, though he kept such things to himself. Better to be a hard-sell to the fiancees, rather than give them a weakness to exploit. Still, those memories were. Ranma shook those memories back into the blackness of her mind, for another time. Kinuran was then – this was now. And right now, her one potential female lover had her tying herself in knots.

Maybe that was a decision she needed to let the Setsuna make sober. Maybe then she could pose the next of her questions; if Setsuna wanted to explore such things with her because of their history alone, or because she saw something in the now she wanted.

Ranma grimaced at a thought. "That would just be icing on the cake, wouldn't it?" She muttered, checking the loft's door to see that it was locked. Satisfied, she continued on to her other self-appointed tasks. "What if she only likes me as a girl, because Kinuran was a girl?"

Memories of their shared escapades banished that idea. Even while they were in the Academy on Terra as youths thousands of years ago, Setsuna's tastes had been varied. Chuckling quietly, Ranma shook her head. "She had a point. I was a hell of a prude back then. All duty, and the honor of my station and position, and the respect due my station." Wrinkling her nose, the redhead sighed. "Well. At least I've loosened up a bit. Dying'll do that to you, I guess."

Making her way to the kitchen, she drew herself a glass of water and drank it down quickly. Another followed, banishing the light headache her rapid metabolism had been letting creep up on her. A third glass was kept in hand, as she quietly approached Tenrou's room.

Setsuna's guest room was dark when she opened the door, but a pair of faintly luminous amber symbols immediately snapped toward her direction as she appeared in the sliver of light the ajar door allowed. Ranma swallowed thickly, transfixed by the odd display. They resembled circles, with a slash bisecting them from the top down, extending half of their height. "Tenrou?"

"_Greetings Ranma Saotome,_" came a melodious voice in that same flowing, ancient tongue from earlier. The redhead frowned, noting it was slightly deeper than she recalled it last.

Not really wanting to turn on the light as she didn't want to get tied up and keep Setsuna waiting, Ranma relaxed marginally. "_Yeah, hey. Are you alright?_"

"_Repairs have been affected,_" the lights 'blinked' once. "_Is there need for this unit?_"

Ranma shook her head. "_No, go back to sleep._"

"_Affirmative. Maintenance and diagnostic mode resuming._" The twin lamps dimmed, but did not die completely, their faint light picking out small details of the recumbent figure Ranma could barely see.

Smiling ruefully, Ranma closed the door with a murmur of "Good night, and pleasant dreams."

Within the darkened room, Tenrou resumed her scan of the passive broadcast signals blanketing the world she found herself on, so different from the Terra of record, while her body adjusted to the gain in mass and material. Her arm would be repaired, which was a given. Nearby were the few scraps of inedible material from those two devices she'd been left, and a small bit of debris from her own arm, also reabsorbed.

She would thank her User's associate for that, during her active cycle. To lose such precious and unusual material would be a reasonable problem, considering these current Terrans had no means it seemed to produce them. For some reason the Plutonian female had been hiding her detached limb from her User.

Tenrou considered the two, working to build a reference database from the sea of data provided to her by the surprisingly open Terran information network. What she found would make for a busy third-cycle.

As Ranma pulled Tenrou's door shut, she heaved a sigh. "Strange little girl," the redhead murmured, shrugging. "Not like I can talk."

True she wasn't actually a girl, but the sentiment was still applicable.

Realizing she had no other small tasks to delay her, Ranma looked to the Senshi's bedroom door with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Whatever she did from this point forward – everything changed.

–

Ranma opened the door to Setsuna's bedroom, stepped inside, and glanced up at the woman peering back at her from her position on her bed. There was a brief count, possibly reaching three, before the martial artist's blush hit critical mass and she spun in place, affecting a very passable impression of a certain elder Tendo daughter. "Oh my."

"I take it you like it," Setsuna voiced, a smile clear in her words as she rose from her artfully composed lounge, her current attire clearly stating her intent.

From her position staring a the grain of Setsuna's door, Ranma could only nod nervously. "I... um. Well, wow."

Chuckling, the Senshi rose and moved to the petite girl's side. She smiled, noting how their height's differed, being easily a head taller than the reborn former Terra. Laying a gentle hand on the martial artist's shoulder, she turned the blushing girl around. "Ranma."

The redhead realized where her lowered gaze was now aimed and 'eeped' quietly, eyes snapping up to meet Setsuna's own and safer territory. With a small nervous laugh, she smaller girl voiced a quiet, "yeah?" while fidgeting with her cup.

Setsuna's question was calm, showing no hint of disappointment or expectation. "Why are you so nervous now?"

"I... just been thinking I guess."

"Second thoughts?" The Senshi's expression relayed concern, but little else.

Ranma shook her head hard. "No. You're... beautiful. But I'm-"

"Only cursed to be a girl, but having a lot of memories tell you otherwise." Setsuna interrupted, finishing the young woman's thoughts for her. Receiving a shaky nod, the taller woman returned the redhead's earlier favor, her own calm taxed by her emotions. She knew Ranma would spend her time outside her presence thinking, and figured this would be the result. Though she showed no outward sign, the hesitation had been a very mild disappointment. Still, they both needed a delicate touch. Ranma had clearly accepted her despite her actions – she'd shown as much earlier. And it shook her realizing how much she _needed_ that acceptance, in the wake of all she'd done. Need almost seemed insufficient, in description in fact, considering the power that simple consideration had over her. That action, that unconditional welcome would have convinced her to be Ranma's lover, their past lives irregardless.

It was her turn to be forward, if patiently so, and show her acceptance.

Leading Ranma to the bed much as she'd been lead minutes before, Setsuna pushed the young woman down and smiled at her, taking her water to sit on the nightstand. She let all the affection, the anticipation, the desire and hope and everything she'd never dared to admit shine in that simple expression as she gazed at the smaller girl.

Ranma sat and felt like she had seen her first sunrise.

Setsuna, feeling suddenly anxious sat beside the young woman and turned her chin up, returning the kiss from earlier. She felt the nervous energy drain out of the martial artist, as her posture softened and her lips parted. After a moment's gentle teasing where their kiss deepened, the Senshi pushed the girl back slowly, to be rewarded when a pair of arms reached up to drape around her shoulders.

The single kiss became many, and warmth bloomed into hunger. The taste of bourbon accented their breath as they parted for a moment, blue and red eyes locked and searching. Quietly, Ranma spoke between deep, shuddering breaths. "Just... a little longer."

Understanding the young woman under her, Setsuna backed off slightly, though she keep her own body pressed close, for warmth and the intimacy that the gesture promised. Seeing Ranma's eyes travel along her body again, the Senshi felt the familiar stirring of her desire, and smiled warmly at her companion. She knew her position was unfair, considering the mind dwelling in that achingly desirable female body nearby was male, but didn't care. She had made her decision long, long ago. Her choice for tonight was a foregone conclusion, in her mind. Everything she'd done lead to this, and the days that would follow.

Ranma found herself drinking in Setsuna's form, clearly displayed despite technically being clothed. The phrase Nabiki had mentioned long ago in regard to lingerie, about how there were some forms of dress more 'naked, than naked', quickly made sense in her mind. Setsuna's garb left little to the imagination, clearly defining her curves via high-arched panties that were daringly cut and transparently paneled, while a sheer camisole displayed her curves and apparent arousal well enough. Her body was deeply tan, toned without being muscular, and trim despite the generous swell of her breasts and alluring flare of hips. Ranma mused on the hue, deciding that bronze would be a good word for it, and that the taller woman's choice in pale lingerie only offset that difference in their skin tone for effect. A very nice effect, the redhead had to admit.

Knowing she should stop gawking, Ranma couldn't stop her eyes from traveling from the woman's deeply emerald hair, lingering along the curve of her neck, and the appealing curve of her shoulders, the lithe, toned length of arm to where a hand rested on a hip. From there, the martial artist took a long moment to appreciate what she'd easily describe as Setsuna's best feature – her legs. The Senshi was tall, and those graceful limbs seemed to take days to move along, as her eyes swept from the arch of her foot where it idled near the base of the bed, to the rise of a hip, swept back slightly as to invite the viewer to linger, the natural lines of Setsuna's body and her attire drawing the eye inward, toward her navel and down to her center.

She wrenched her gaze away from that clear invitation to find quiet amusement and pride, in deep red eyes. A hand reached up, running along Ranma's shoulder lightly. Those fingers plucked at the shirt the young woman wore. "May I?"

Ranma wet her lips and nodded, leaning up and forward as deft hands took the garment, pulling it up and over the buxom girl's breasts, but halted as the shirt was left half-removed. Her face and arms trapped, Ranma shifted against Setsuna's hold for a moment, until the cursed youth felt the tickle of breath above the rise of her quickly-tightening nipples. Ranma froze, her eyes flying wide as the implications of what her senses were telling her came to bear. She braced herself, but was wholly unprepared for the electric spasm that seemed to claim her body, as warm, moist lips met that aching point of sensation. As quickly as it began, the flood of pleasure stopped, though she knew the attention was merely shifted.

Setsuna found her latest attentions most delicious. As she'd expected, her lover's skin was pale, complimenting her red hair well. It was also crossed by hundreds of tiny scars, each one a small volume speaking of Ranma's strength, determination, and spirit. She lingered, brushing her lips along a number of them, memorizing their lay and character. There, a clear wound from a dagger, most likely. Here, where her fingers lingered below the heavy swell of a breast, a long, thin, silvery tracery from some unknown battle. Perhaps another would find Ranma's badges less than appealing, but to Setsuna, they were illuminated braille, a testament in blood and victory.

When Setsuna's fingers ceased their maddening if pleasurable tracing, the sudden sensation of teeth lightly grazing her neglected breast left Ranma shuddering as her eyes rolled back. The shock of the sudden rush of pleasure hitting her drove beyond the tension deep in her stomach, to shoot up along her spine, cascading along her body like cold water full of white-hot cinders. Going limp in the Senshi's arms, she made a needy, small sound that had the other woman quickly pulling her disabused shirt free and wrapping her in a warm embrace, murmuring small assurances and wordless promises as the young woman shivered and rocked in the wake of her first small orgasm as a woman.

Ranma's lips seeking out the beat of her pulse along her neck was Setsuna's first clue the younger woman had regained herself. The second was a pleasant surprise, as with a deft touch, the straps of her brief garment were pushed aside, letting only the rise of her breasts maintain their scarce veiling. Her companion let a small but strong hand, its palm warm and slow in its trek, begin a path that started at her collar, and ended with that same warmth causing her back to arch, as its welcome heat met her own slightly heaving chest, her breaths coming deep and expectant.

Setsuna didn't recall when the transition between seducing Ranma and being seduced by the shifted woman began, but could scarcely complain. Though it came as no surprise, she found herself thinking that her red haired lover moved like a man regardless of her gender – her hands were sure, strong, demanding, her kisses hungry – but had the intimate knowledge of her form that only a woman would understand. Setsuna found the contrast delicious and purred her appreciation.

Soon the Senshi found herself biting her lip to keep her voice in check, as Ranma expertly returned the attentions she'd given earlier. Gentle teeth moved from her deeply crinkled nipples and reclaimed her abused lip, and she welcomed the kiss, letting her legs move along the outside of her lover's thighs. She slowly writhed there, enjoying the gentle pressure of Ranma's hip against her sex, quite sure the other woman understood the meaning of her small motions. She continued, her own leg lightly nudging against Ranma's knee until she was granted leave to raise it. With a small sense of triumph, Setsuna gently drew her thigh against the warmth there, bringing a full-body shiver from the petite form beside her as she made lingering contact with her lover's clothed sex.

Ranma drew back, her eyes hazed with lust and desire, her motions growing more needy. Setsuna welcomed the shift, feeling her own desires bloom, the damp warmth of her arousal keen in her mind, and the hunger behind it gnawing at her mercilessly. A rising chant of 'want' and 'mine' crested in her mind, as a toe hooked along the other woman's waist, from a highly arched leg, claiming the elastic there. Eyes locked on Setsuna's own, Ranma understood her lover's desire and shed the simple garment without breaking the kiss she'd swept in for.

Though she'd expected to ply her skills against her new lover before experiencing the same, Setsuna was surprised again as Ranma's hands slipped along her back, below the brief arch of her last remaining garment, and then beyond as those same strong hands carried her panties to be removed while Setsuna raised her knees and assisted. She relished the moment those hands paused, cupping, then gripping her rear firmly, as a quiet chuckle drifted from her lover's lips. Finally bare before one another, she basked the hungry look on Ranma's face, knowing her own expression was if anything more so.

Feeling impish, she shifted her thighs together with a hum, as she took the other young woman's hand. After kissing her fingers, she guided it close but not quite to her aching center. The electric sensation of fingertips grazing her bare sex made the Senshi shiver. "Surprised?"

Ranma met her eyes, and tilted her head a moment, a tiny shrug. "Right now, everything is a surprise."

Setsuna's quiet laugh was full of promise as she let her lover's fingers find her with a deep, satisfied sigh, her own hands greedily seeking similar delicacies. "Very much the right answer."

–

Ranma woke to the feel of her body being chilled slightly by the air, as the brief sheet she'd been wrapped in was pulled away. Looking up from her lazing languor after some interminable time making love to Setsuna, she found her recent lover standing nearby, a steaming mug in her hand, and a coy smile bending her lips. She blinked as the taller woman leaned in, kissing her forehead affectionately. "Welcome back."

"How long was I out?"

Setsuna smiled and lifted the cup in her hand. "Just long enough for me to heat some water."

With a spreading grin and musical laugh, Ranma sat up and hugged the woman around the hips, breathing in her scent hungrily as her cheek nuzzled against the rise of the taller woman's hip. "Thank you," she murmured, as a light hand plied at her hair affectionately.

Setsuna felt she knew why, but regardless asked, as she pushed the warmed water into Ranma's hand "For?"

Her petite, buxom lover shifted under her hands into the form of a toned, muscular man, who matched her height when he stood and took her in his arms with a sweeping, hungry kiss. Breaking their contact, the young man beamed at her, simple joy in his expression. "For accepting me. All of me."

Setsuna chuckled darkly at that, shifting her posture so she could drape herself along Ranma's side, her fingers dancing down his toned, defined chest to the rigid expanse of his abs. She loosed a sigh of contentment as she leaned on his shoulder, finding Ranma's height as a male much to her liking. Finally, those searching fingers delicately, if eagerly, encircled his clearly rousing manhood. "We'll see how far I get in regard to 'all' of you, love," the Senshi quipped, earning her a playful swat against her shapely rear.

Feeling playful herself, she turned so that she leaned back against her lover, rolling her hips against his growing ardor once, as she swept her hair forward, allowing Ranma a clear view of her toned back, neck, and shoulders. Reaching back and up, she drew the man behind her into a brief kiss, tilting her head back and to the side as his hands came to rest along her hips. "I think... I'm going to be grateful for warming up gently earlier," she commented huskily, rolling her hips back against the stone-hard length teasing her once more.

Ranma's voice rolled across her ear, thick with desire. "Why do you say that?"

"Because now it's the farthest thing from my mind," Setsuna mated words with action, leaning forward so that her arms braced her along the bed, peering back over her shoulder with a burning gaze as her position clearly spoke her desire.

Ranma's larger, time-worn hands running up and along her back made the Senshi shiver in expectation, as she felt the results of her clearly inviting posture straining against her aching sex. She loosed a deep, satisfied sound as her arms faltered, when her lover took the initiative, filling a void that petite fingers were ill-suited to. Not that Ranma's earlier attentions hadn't born fruit.

Setsuna simply found she enjoyed variety, and found she wanted her second course, when presented it in such an appealing package.

As Ranma completed his first stroke within her, slowly proving she could indeed accept him, Setsuna loosed a breath she'd not realized she'd held with a body-wide shiver. Ranma, if the leaping pulse she could feel deep in her center was to be believed, found their mating to be just as satisfying. She practically purred at the feel of his hips against her own, their bodies nestled together intimately. Setsuna arched her back as her lover lowered himself to kiss and rake his teeth along her shoulder, drawing up a primal hunger within her. "Ranma..."

A low rumble met her needy plead. "Now?"

"God, please..."

–

AN: Yum. End for the moment. More shortly, and yes, more action (this kind too) and some actual plot. Gasp. But hey, I had to fun writing this. Waaay too much fun. Research can be the best part of writing sometimes.


	12. Panic Switch

There will be: language, nudity, sex, violence, death, and rather detailed descriptions of such. I'm an adult, and a writer. I revel in the coincidence that I'm also an adult writer.

I only own what someone else does not.

_ It took her fifteen thousand years. Riding the cresting rise and fall of countless empires and civilizations. A gambit that would leave the world dead and cold... unless _she_ rose again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not life, or death, or eternal madness, or damning the galaxy to the cold death of time and space torn asunder. _

_ Betrayal is just one of a million tools, in the machine she'd wrought, just for another chance. And nothing will stand in her way. _

Eclipsed

Chapter Twelve: Panic Switch

–

Usagi tried to coax her own expression into something less distracted and grim, but her own recent personal preoccupations were telling. She felt the least she could do was actually pay attention when one of those people she was responsible for, ultimately, had something important to say, rather than brood over her boyfriend being distant and not calling her while he was abroad. "I'm sorry Haruka, could you say that again?"

The Senshi of Uranus sighed, running her hand over her face tiredly, the day's events clearly telling on her by the cast of her face. "Alright, yeah. Michiru and I were just on our way back from shopping, when about two blocks from us, something went off like a bomb."

Ami Mizuno drew her attention from sneaking in some advanced homework to spin her laptop around. "Was it near here?" She tabbed over to a few news reports, the images presented forming a familiar tableau.

"Yeah, right there actually."

"There was a suspected meteorite impact there," the bookish girl relayed, pulling up another tab on her browser. "One of the most well-observed ones in recent history, to be frank. The bolide grade of the fall event was in the upper classes-"

"Ami, focus."

The girl in question blinked at Usagi's request, readjusting her glasses. "Right, sorry. They didn't recover the meteor yet, but it was clearly recorded and observed."

Haruka leaned back in the plastic deck chair, one of many that surrounded the table that had been unfolded and set up for such meetings in the outer foyer of Rei's living space. Tapping her fingers on the pebbly surface, the blonde nodded. "I guess that matches up. We didn't sense anything remotely strange till after we shook off that initial impact."

Makoto, who'd been following the news, perked up at that. "You mean there was something else?"

"Yeah, Michiru and I pretty much tripped over something that looked like a little girl, taking bites out of a car bumper and drawing in energy from the local environment."

"I suppose that would qualify as something else," the Mizuno girl admitted with a blink. "Possibly even alien. What happened?"

With a sigh, the frustrated woman explained. "You have to realize, there wasn't time to evacuate or anything. When that thing hit, whatever it was, it blew up a city block pretty damn well," she relayed, eyes distant and somewhat shadowed in memory. "People... bodies were everywhere. Everything was on fire, or broken, or both. And there in the middle of it, was this innocent looking little girl.

"We were kind of stunned," Haruka admitted hesitantly to the sympathetic, if green, looks from the others. "I mean, we've seen some pretty bad stuff. But this looked like those pictures you see from war zones. You just couldn't get your breath, and the smell..." the blonde shuddered, rubbing at her arms as if chilled. "Anyway, when we were about to get focused and take the whatever-it-was out, Ranma smashed her way out of a wall that had fallen down nearby-"

"Hold on a moment," Rei interrupted for the first time that night, having been less than thrilled and brooding that a meeting had been called after a busy day, two hours training with her grandfather with the Fire, and then homework that ran her past her usual bedtime. She appreciated that Haruka was taking her responsibilities as a Senshi seriously, but it still left her a little irate that it was her room, time, and space that got sacrificed on a whim to accommodate such meetings. She didn't let the direction of her ire show, however, letting it settle like a cloud about her, so she didn't snap at anyone without cause. Despite really wanting to. "Is this the same Ranma you and Michiru were talking about at lunch with the others?"

Haruka nodded, looking irritable. "Yeah, how'd you hear about it?"

"I called her after school," Makoto chimed in. "You mentioned how he sounded like an accomplished martial artist during lunch, so I got in touch with her, to see if he'd stopped by yet."

"Why would he come here?"

Rei smiled a quiet smile. "Martial artists and shrines have a long history with one another," the part-time priestess explained. "Particularly traveling ones, like Makoto suspects your friend to be."

"He's not a friend," Haruka spat angrily, her fingers causing the table to creak as they clenched. Rei drew back at the venom in the blonde's voice, having not expected such an outburst. Noticing the younger girl's reaction, Haruka scrubbed at her hair, clearly frustrated. "Sorry. Today's just been one big bag of what the fuck."

Usagi startled slightly at the degree of Haruka's disquiet. Sure, the older Senshi was a bit rough around the edges to the point of being blunt, but she was rarely vulgar. "Lets let Haruka finish," she soothed, trying to calm everyone down with a smile. "Clearly this was something big, so lets let her get it out so we can figure out what to do after." She let her smile become a more familiar grin. "And then Makoto can make us some cookies." The Senshi relaxed at that, chuckling a bit. Haruka was still tense, clearly, but she lost the nervous thrum she'd been holding back, like a bowstring ready to snap.

"Right, Ranma," Haruka picked back up, shaking her head. "He'd gotten wet, and had turned girl, which is what threw me. I didn't recognize her right off the bat. Him. Fuck pronouns... Whatever! He'd showed his curse as he called it off for the class today, but he didn't stay that way for long." She noted Ami again turning her laptop, with two pictures displayed there. The image of the redheaded Ranma caused something black and bitter to bubble up in the woman. "Yeah, that's him. Them. Whatever."

"I should note, since it's come up, that Ranma sometimes goes by Ranko Tendo in his girl form," Ami explained, to the questioning gazes around her. The young woman shrugged. "You really expect me not to look into such an odd story?"

"So this Ranko is an alias?"

Ami bit at her lip, then shook her head. "Maybe? Probably not in the way you're thinking," she replied to Minako's first question of the day, as the blonde intently studied the two pictures. "It was publicly known, and there were easy connections between the two, making it a bad attempt at subterfuge if it was one. I can't imagine having such a curse would be easy to deal with. Building a separate identity for such a change makes sense."

"Whatever," Haruka dismissed, clearly disinterested in reasoning explanations. "She busted her way out of a wall, looking a bit blown up herself." Seeing the questioning looks around her, Haruka drew a line across her face then down. "Scalp wound, my guess. Half her face was bloody, and her eye looked a bit messed up. Didn't stop her from outrunning a World Shaking to snatch the alien or whatever up and get her out of the blast zone pretty much before we could react."

Minako whistled lowly. "Fast. Did she see you fire, or was she acting first?"

Haruka bit her lip, then shook her head. "Can't recall. We weren't looking at her. I mean, yeah, it was odd to see her pretty much go Juggernaut out of that wall she was under, but we'd both heard her talk about the martial arts thing. We didn't think it was a big deal at the time, then..."

"Then she got between you and the alien," Usagi prompted.

"Yeah," the other blonde sighed. "She was fast. She was out of the blast crater from the explosion before our attacks hit. I thought, 'Maybe she'd never seen the Senshi before', but when Michiru and I went to introduce ourselves, and try to explain things, she shot an energy blast at us."

Surprised expressions varied around the table, though Ami just sighed and looked harried. It was Rei who spoke next. "An energy blast? Or a gun?"

"Definitely something she did," Haruka confirmed. "She was holding a second in her hand, and blew the ground out from under us when we fell from where she blew the roof out from under our feet with the first."

"Watch this," Ami tersely interrupted, flipping her laptop around again, as she pulled out a wirebound notebook to work on her assignment in. Not looking up from her scribbling, she continued, "someone from Nerima took a few of those and used them in a few school production projects, for the AV classes. They're recent, and I got in contact with the person via email today, while looking up Ranma and Ranko. They offered to sell me some information, after a little convincing.

"I took what they'd let slip, and tracked the video to a boy named Hiroshi. He admitted he took this about six months ago."

The video, if low resolution and jerky, clearly showed a male Ranma facing off against a young man with similar features, in a simple yellow tunic. It resembled a campy B-grade martial arts movie, except that all those present had seen and dealt with much worse before in person. Ami skipped forward nearly a minute, past a massive green screen-fault, then back a few seconds.

The 'fault' resolved itself into a miasma that the yellow-clad boy started to draw in, forming a condensed aura about himself while his posture relayed defeat and resignation. A now-female Ranma seemed to snap out of something she'd been preoccupied with off-screen, throwing her hands forward with an infuriated scream of "Moko Takabisha!"

The video again suffered a white-out, but this time the source was clear as a pillar of red-gold light connected the two figures, nearly as wide as the redhead was tall. The second figure was blasted through a stone wall, the side of a house, out a window, finally to tumble bonelessly across a street where he stopped, rising into a kneel. The video ended as the figure in yellow punched down into the hood of an oncoming car, sending it careening through the air toward the cameraman.

Haruka's mouth was dry as she commented, "She didn't use that on us. It was just the size of a softball I think."

"...you mean that's _real?_"

Ami nodded at Usagi's incredulous tone. "I managed to find other accounts from the school and a few videos, but that was the most clear. Those two are the keystone figures for the Nerima Wrecking Crew, a well known group of martial artists from the ward by the same name."

"Nerima?" The girls looked to the speaker in mild surprise, having never heard Makoto speak in such a glacial tone before. "This Ranma is from Nerima, you said?"

"I... I believe so?"

Where the girls had expected the usual mutterings about a former Sempai, what they didn't expect was the string of invectives that burst out of the girl. "No wonder he never came back from that snake's den. Poor Sempai, he was too gentle for that place..."

The Senshi turned back to Rei, as she inspected the video intently for a moment, replaying it in places then pausing. Finally, she seemed to nod to herself and sit back. "Ki. It all makes sense now."

Knowing she'd need to explain that statement, she held up a hand, her fingers gathered to a point and closed her eyes. After a tense moment where a small, cold sweat broke over her features, a yellow-blue flame took light over her hand. It was small, and indistinct, but clearly there for the few moments it lasted. "Some martial disciplines focus the same things my own training works to strengthen. What you saw in my hand, and that those two were using was ki. We just use it in vastly different ways."

"That's what Setsuna finally told me," Haruka admitted tiredly. She wished the other girls would just let her explain things, without all the interruptions. She was tired, and worried about Michiru, who she'd left back home with Hotaru. "The martial arts thing anyway, not the ki bit. We ended up in a standoff – Ranma got Michiru, and was holding her hostage, trying to protect the alien."

"They were together?"

Haruka considered that, then shook her head. "I doubt it. Now. I wasn't... thinking clearly at the time."

"If she had Michiru, I can understand that," Usagi sighed, rubbing at her temple. "Then those blasts you mentioned, just made it all seem so unreal, right? I don't think I would have reacted any better. We've never seen anyone who could do this kind of thing."

"Anyone who can focus their ki like that either has an amazing amount of training behind them, or has lived a life so full of trials that survival is just their day-to-day existence," Rei added, replaying the video without sound again. "I can't even imagine what kind of focus those two have."

"Two?"

"The other boy was preparing a similar thing, I think." The shrine maiden pointed out. "Judging by how Ranma seems to be herding the other boy, he – she, whatever – was trying to get him away from bystanders. I think whatever he was about to do, goaded her into blasting him."

"He certainly didn't seem concerned with collateral damage," Minako muttered, watching the car scene again with a wince.

"So this was all a misunderstanding?"

Haruka shook her head at Usagi. "I don't know. All this I could have gotten – just needed it put in context. But Setsuna was... strange. And things just got stranger when she showed up. That's what got to me."

"Explain."

"She seemed stunned," Haruka finally decided, leaning her chin on a hand as she recalled the day's events as best she could at Usagi's prompt. "Like... like she'd seen a ghost. Then she starts calling Ranma this other name."

"Sounds like she recognized her," Minako stated warily. "Which means probably Silver Millennium."

Haruka snorted. "Yeah, that was pretty clear. Ranma seemed disoriented, and was tossing insults around like it was going out of style. And she recognized Setsuna in her fuku." That little admission left the room in stunned silence for a long moment. "It gets... stranger.

"While they were talking, I managed to put together who they were talking about. Whoever Ranma was, she really, _really_ hated Serenity."

Usagi blinked owlishly at that. "They hated my mother? I thought..."

The other blonde shrugged, shaking her head. "She called her 'Bitch-queen', 'The Witch', a few other things," Haruka explained, as the eyes of the other girls widened. "Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, Ranma seemed pretty laid back for the most part when I talked with him today, but this... Kinuran, I think Setsuna called her, had serious anger issues."

Predictably, Ami was hard at work while she continued, "Then, rather than back me up, Setsuna starts begging Ranma to stand down and let her explain things." Haruka laughed at the incredulous faces around her. "Yeah, I know. She actually bowed and said please."

"Whoa," falling back from her tense position leaning against the table, Usagi couldn't even imagine that scene.

"They seemed really familiar with one another," Haruka added, her brow creased in concentration as she drew on memory. "She called Setsuna 'Setsy' a few times. Which not even we do, or can get away with," she pointed out quickly to the other Senshi who were staring at her. "And trust me, it was just unreal watching Setsuna get emotional all over the place like that."

"You think maybe Kinuran was related to her?" Minako shrugged when eyes turned to her. "I mean, we're all Senshi. She isn't that close to us, so... a relative, or something. Family."

"Damn it," Ami swore quietly, drawing attention from those near her. "Sorry. I can't get anything substantial on a Kinuran. All I can find are..." she looked up at Usagi apologetically before continuing, "execution documents."

The future Queen paled. "That's... serious. Any record of why?"

"Lot of news snippets. She was only known as Kinuran, no family name, or the 'Traitor Princess', which seems strange. Oh. Wow, she looks really familiar."

Ami pulled her laptop back from where Rei had left it, putting her more sophisticated Mercury Computer forward. The persistent messages that usually scrolled across the background went by without notice, the other Senshi well-used to the Imperial Directives and how the Lunar Network emphasized them. More interesting to them was a familiar face, wearing an unfamiliar scowl.

The woman resembled what they'd imagine Ranma's girl-form would look like, when she had grown older, and by the look in the picture's eye, seen enough hardship to turn the other girl's playful, mischievous light into a harder, determined focus. They both shared the same hair and eye color, and general skin tone, though Kinuran was a bit more tanned. The older woman's face was more angular, lacking the softness Ranma's youth still allowed, and there were a few scars that marked her as a warrior, or at least a fighter with some experience.

Usagi, however, had a more telling reaction. "Oh my... Ami. Pull up a picture of-"

"Beryl," the other girl agreed. "I thought so too." The bookish girl struck a key, and another picture opened beside the first. "They could be sisters."

"That would certainly explain how you said she was acting," Rei commented with a sigh. "I thought we were done with Beryl..."

"I don't think this is related, actually," Ami hesitantly stated. "Kinuran's execution came almost a decade before Beryl's rise."

Shaking her head, Usagi's eyes were riveted to the screen. "I can't shake this feeling that I know her, and that I should... I don't know."

"Run and hide?" The other girls looked to Minako, where she chuckled darkly. "That was my first impression when I saw that," she indicated, pointing at Kinuran's picture. "My first impulse was to duck for cover."

"Or lash out," Haruka admitted bitterly. "I've been having that creep up on me every time I think of the name, or Ranma since this afternoon."

"I can't get anything other than that order for execution, and a bunch of useless news article headlines, without body," Ami replied, shaking her head. "Whatever, or whoever she was, either she predated the Lunar Network archives I can access, or she was stricken from them pretty completely."

Makoto hummed in thought. "The cats?"

"Maybe," Usagi considered, wishing she'd brought Luna now. "We can ask them later."

"I was thinking maybe Setsuna had uncovered a new ally, till I saw that," Minako motioned towards the picture that was still present. She couldn't help but shiver, feeling like the woman's eyes tracked her, when she wasn't looking, something about her face stirring a deep anxiety. "I just can't put it all together."

"You and me both," Haruka grumbled. "And I can't write it off like Setsuna did. Before we all parted ways, Ranma knocked Michiru out, and her transformation faded," the blonde relayed, clearly upset. "The worst part, right then Ranma and I recognized each other. Through the transformation. Setsuna didn't react at all, not really. Like she didn't care."

"That's... really not like her."

"No kidding, like defending an alien that blew up part of the city, not even noticing all the dead and injured, and then having a cheery little conversation with some former criminal from the Silver Millennium is?" Haruka snapped, then grimaced. "Sorry, Usagi. I'm just really..."

Moving to Haruka's side, the younger girl wrapped the short-haired blonde in a hug. "It's alright. We'll figure it out. Tomorrow, we'll get Setsuna to answer some questions – whether she likes it or not."

"Yeah, I think I'd like that," Haruka quietly admitted. "As distant as she is, she's been a good friend for a while. This just feels... wrong. Like suddenly I don't know her. And she's Hotaru's guardian, so..."

Usagi nodded, taking a tissue to discreetly dry Haruka's eyes. "I know. This is very disruptive. But we'll sort it out. I promise.

"You know what I think we need to get our minds off this a bit?"

Makoto heaved a sigh and pushed herself away from the table with a wry grin. "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it."

The blonde in pigtails sat back and rubbed her hands together, with a wicked grin, "Excellent."

Haruka couldn't help but laugh. "That is just so not you."

Usagi pouted.

The Senshi laughed.

And for the moment, the world wasn't quite so threatened.

–

Setsuna ran her fingers through the unruly bangs of the man she was halfway laying across, smiling as his lips quirked when that fringe tickled at his brow. She could hear the signs of life stirring from the floor below, but didn't care at the moment. She could guess what Ranma had done the night before, and berated herself for lacking that foresight herself, despite her emotional state at the time. She could only imagine the madness that would result from someone barging in, and finding her in bed with the very person that had caused such an uproar.

Or worse, she contemplated, with a wicked grin. Still, the soreness she wore like a badge kept her from playing out those impulses, despite her quickening breath and sudden flush at the memories from the night before. Ranma had been an inexperienced, but very attentive lover, learning quickly, but more importantly to her, he had never wavered in his almost laser-focus on her. It was... humbling, in truth. To know someone directed that much intensity simply on her happiness.

It may have seemed shallow to someone else, but that moment of connection, that point where they were the only two people in the universe, had justified everything. Every risk, every gamble, every black machination she'd put in action.

She blinked, wine-hued eyes fixed on the young man's face, unseeing. It was only the beginning, though. All she'd done up to this point... was only to get here. Now, she needed to find a way to keep this dream alive. The pebble had been thrown, and now... now she simply had to make sure the ripples didn't grow and swell so much they capsized the small boat this dream sat vulnerable in.

The warmth of her nearby lover tempted her into laying back down, breathing out a content sigh as she shifted into a more comfortable position, her head on his shoulder. A steady, strong, comforting rumble of a heartbeat under her ear soothed her frayed nerves, settling her whirling thoughts. She closed her eyes hard, the glassy mist stinging them receding stubbornly, as she felt the sheer power of her own heart's response, something she'd been wholly unprepared to feel return. It swelled up on her when she wasn't prepared, wrapping around her heart, choking the air from her, leaving her weak and and shaky in the wake of it. It scared her, felt like joy, smelled like sunrise and tasted like distilled life, after choking on the ash of death for as long as she could remember.

She'd taken lovers, more for the simple creature comfort and moment of connection to another living being than anything else, but this almost panic-force need that welled up at the thought of finally being here was nearly more than she could deal with. It eclipsed those pale, distant, forgotten moments so easily. It humbled her. Made her feel tiny and insignificant. Was this what had fueled Beryl's betrayal? The Princess's resolve, for her Senshi? Was this what bound Neo-Serenity to Endymion? Setsuna shivered at those questions, dismissing them.

When they'd risked what she had... when they'd gone that far, _then_ she'd compare notes.

A small sound from her sleeping lover brought her back, and she kissed at the hollow of his throat, eliciting a sleeping mumble and smile. As Ranma's sleeping breath tickled at her own face, the Senshi of Pluto considered her future, and smiled. This was worthy. She would keep this moment. But in the short-term...

Reaching behind her, she fumbled at the nightstand before coming away with a cell phone. A stored number was pulled up, and she quietly greeted the voice on the other side. "Hello, Kinomoto-san. Yes, actually. The news? The very same. I have some insurance issues to deal with today, possibly tomorrow. I will have my cell, if I'm needed. Yes. Thank you, goodbye."

"Calling in?"

Setsuna shivered as Ranma's voice rumbled up from beneath her. She spared him a guilty smile, knowing her little call would have awakened him. "Yes," she offered simply, leaning up to silence any other immediate questions with a kiss. "And you have morning breath."

"We have," the young man corrected with a little laugh, laying his head back with a sigh as he grew pensive.

"Regrets?"

Ranma laughed again, quietly, as he met Setsuna's questioning gaze. There was no lie in them when he answered. "No. No regrets." He shifted somewhat self-consciously. "But I'm thinking I should get up."

Setsuna's thigh slipped up along her bedmate's own, as she turned to run her teeth lightly along the skin of Ranma's shoulder in answer. "...Aren't you already?"

The full-body shiver her words and action caused did nothing to abate Ranma's waking condition, which they were both distinctly aware of. With a throaty hum, the young man spilled his recent lover onto her back, as she eagerly welcomed him with a throaty "Good morning," wrapping her long, tanned legs around his own.

Ranma's reply wasn't quite so verbal.

"Yes," she mused to herself, as a bloom of warmth washed over her skin, her thoughts mirroring Ranma's own, "this moment is worth fighting for."

–

_ ~This could be considered an Omake, more for tone than content. It is quite possible, however... I would think Hotaru more in-the-know...~_

In the kitchen below, Haruka sat wide-eyed as Michiru had her hands over Hotaru's ears, her face flushed a she looked everywhere but up.

The younger woman's eyes were curiously watching the light fixture that hung above the kitchen table sway rhythmically, as the three sat eating breakfast. Or, rather, paused while eating breakfast. "Michiru-mama?"

In a strangled tone, the teal-haired woman answered, her smile strained. "Yes, Hotaru?"

Hotaru watched the lamp pick up speed, somewhat mesmerized. "When did Setsuna-mama start watching western movies?"

Haruka knew she was going to regret it, but had to ask. "Ah, why do you think she's been doing that?"

The younger girl tried to shrug off her adoptive guardian's hands, with little success. "She just seemed really enthused about the horse-chase scenes I guess. She was watching them last night too, but her door was locked. I don't think she could hear me knocking over yelling at them. She's like when you and Michiru-mama go and watch race movies."

"Ah..."

"Only, instead of 'faster, faster!' she was yelling about stallions and riding or something. You think maybe I could watch some of them with her? They sound fun!"

"No!" the shell-shocked pseudo-parents blurted out, just as resounding 'Yes!' echoed from upstairs.

"School," Haruka barked out, grabbing a confused Hotaru, dragging her toward the door. "Now, going, quickly."

Michiru was marching right behind her lover, eye twitching. "Right, yes. We wouldn't want to be late."

"But I'm still in my pajamas!"

"We'll get another uniform on the way!"

There was a strangled scream from upstairs, "I'm coming!"

Hotaru looked back over her shoulder, as she was pushed out the door, "Did Setsuna-mama want to ride with us?"

"Oh I think she's rather happy with her current ride," Michiru muttered, shivering as she pulled the front door closed with a bang. "I can't believe she's doing that."

Haruka nodded seriously at the shorter woman's side. "I know. What is she thinking?"

Before them, Hotaru folded her arms and glared. "What? So what if she wants to watch movies sometimes? You guys get enthused and loud too, you know! At least she's on another floor," the slight Senshi grumbled, picking at her sleep clothes with a grumble. "At least westerns are more interesting than car movies."

"Hey! I'll have you know-"

"Haruka," Michiru interrupted frostily. "We are not going to have this argument."

The blonde blinked, before nodding sheepishly. "Right, of course."

"Now go back inside and get Hotaru's uniform."

"Why me!"

Michiru folded her arms and glared. "Or I'm grounding you from your 'movie collection'."

Haruka's posture radiated defeat as she trudged back into the shared home. "Damn you Setsuna, this is all your fault..."

Hotaru turned to stifle a snicker.

~_Or perhaps she's taking after Setsuna more than anyone realizes.~_

–

AN: One more little snippet of calm. Forgive it, if you're tired of the WAFF and implied sex. I know I usually don't reappear for about a week when I get back to a neglected lover, but then perhaps I'm odd.

Few notes. Didn't like how I intro'd Haruka earlier in the fic – wanted them confrontational, without writing her in a condescending light. Think I failed at that. Which is bad, as she's going to be important. May rewrite that.

The previous chapters were broken down and built into chapters after I wrote up to ch10 in one shot. Though I'm not sure I like the length of my break-downs. I tend to prefer 5k minimum, 10k max chapters, but this one seems to defy that. So, smaller, bitesized updates. This does also mean slower future updates from this point forward, as I posted all my pre-written, if not published, material. I will likely post another chapter-bomb once I get another 'arc' done, so patience in that regard

This is an interlude. They are annoying and take the focus off things that we actually want to read. Which is why this is a break-point. And this should be the most in the way of Author's Notes you'll see till the next post-storm.


	13. War, Loss, and Hope: pt 1

I only own what someone else does not.

2/28/11: I was recently reminded that this has some similarities to Heir to the Empire by Ozz, which is a happy but unintentional coincidence. I just went back to reread that recently, and picked out spots that had similar themes. When I was building this, my source materials, as far as theme ideas, were EVEOnline (ships), Star Trek (singularity weaponry), and general geophysics for the planetary mechanics. Asheer's Crystal Gambit seems the most familiar, but I think that was unintentional. Lexicon notes were put up on the fly, and then compared to my concept flow chart (outlines are too mechanical).

–

Eclipsed

A History Of War, Loss, and Hope: pt. 1

–

Initial AN: This... is a complicated interlude. In a way, this can be utterly ignored, and you as the reader, lose nothing. This is also, I suppose, a character piece. In a way, I feel like I've alienated some of my audience with Ranma's severe bias against a figure that canonically represented everything right and just that one could aim for.

I mention sometimes that I tell stories via imperfect windows. I write, most often, in a limited third person perspective. I focus on one, maybe two characters, and through them, tell the story. My focus is usually fairly good in this – you as the reader see the world through their eyes. Their imperfect, biased, opinionated, personal windows. Such is how we view the world, and so, I strive to mimic such in my work.

This is a history, as I envision it for the purposes of defining the _Eclipsed_ alternate universe. It expands and focuses on a portion of history that actually has little bearing on the story itself at this time. In the future, it may become... extremely relevant, but there is no foreseeable point in what I'm planning, that this should be included as-is. The degree of exposition is massive, and resorting to flashbacks and the mechanics required to build characterization and dialog to include it would easily double the current written payload of what has been published, and distract severely from my focus.

In this first of possibly three interludes – the other ones will come after the next story arc, no sooner – detailing what should be considered a somewhat biased record, as told by the writers of history. There is that accursed tool, jargon, but I have included a lexicon, at the end. There is pseudo-science. I ask that if you cannot ignore what implausibilities I attempt, to at least regard them as a moderate effort in explaining a course of circumstances. I do not presume to be a scientist, but I do enjoy science.

This will be the last 'interlude' type chapter, before the beginning of the next story arc.

On with it.

–

Imperial boundaries included the Sol System in their territory many years before long-distance scans revealed three inhabited worlds there. Due to the distance and other concerns wracking the Empire at the time, those mostly pertaining to threats that saw the original homeworld of the sprawling dynasty destroyed, little was done to follow up on that awareness until sometime around two centuries after the ascent of the previous Serenity XVII. By the time attention had returned to the distant worlds, the happy surprise of human influence had spread to every planet in the system, if not in familiar ways.

To understand why the Sol System became a target of so much attention, one must look to the history of the Empire, at the time.

More a title than a name, The Serenity was a position held by the current viable heir of the matriarchal ruling line of the Empire's predominant ruling family. There were five such families – called Houses – which were at once the force that kept the Empire from stifling its subjects via the threat of tyranny, and posed a source of internal conflict, keeping the Empire in a state of near-eternal civil war. The title 'Serenity' was coined, as only when those Houses' conflicts were quelled, did the Empire enjoy peace in any way, shape, or form. The rise of a Serenity typically indicated these periods of idyllic rest and peace, though such a position was not always filled. Despite the Empire's seemingly warlike nature, it was not the drive to conquer that lead to its vast military engine which secured a protectorate spanning most of an arm of the known galaxy. It was a desire to enlighten. Culture within the Empire was, broadly, considered focused on the ascetic and encouraged the production of art of various kinds, and the advancement of human knowledge. It was far from idyllic, but there were no better examples.

The future Serenity XVIII – the figure most common in record – was a remarkable woman who was a second-born daughter and third child of the Jinholor House circa 418 PS (Pre-Settling), based on the primary Empire homeworld of Spiras. Her birth name was stricken from the records on her ascent as was custom, but it was commonly known as she was anything but an unknown figure. Asheer ul'Jinholor rose from near-obscurity, the long shadow of her elder sister who ruled House Jinholor and therefore Spiras as was custom, and an older brother who proved a prodigy at combining Immaterial Metrics and Logical Sciences as if they were mated ideas. Those shadows were deep and hard to dispel, though she managed well enough to do so by act and reputation some small time before her ascent. Graduating second place overall in her creche, the future Serenity's focus on Immaterial Metrics – a love instilled in her by her brother – and Strategy would prove crucial to the survival of the Empire, as would her tenure as a fleet commander, as most non-heir children of the Houses spent their lives.

Ten years and three commissions as a ranking Second Officer aboard Imperial ships saw Asheer taking command of her own vessel, _Galatea_, shortly before an uprising against the current Serenity (Halasiir un'Garave, Serenity XVII) due to a sudden madness regarding the loss of her consort. Details regarding the consort's death were never released, but assassination by a rival House was suspected. Serenity un'Garave turned her private fleet and guard against the near-neighbor to Spiras, Korova, homeworld to the parties she suspected responsible for her consort's death. As she had bypassed the House Conclave and acted independently, and in a fashion that threatened the well-being of three of the five Houses directly, her title was stripped, and control of the Empire was again returned to the Conclave – though this decision was made moot by the time-frames involved.

Regardless of those decisions, made in the early stages of Halasiir's vendetta, her actions proved pivotal in leading to the ascent of Asheer as the next Serenity.

–

The last Imperial Home War (the 318th), began with the refusal of Halasiir un'Garave (former Serenity XVII) to relinquish control of her personal fleet and hand-chosen Imperial Guard, while in orbit over Korova (Second Imperial homeworld, neighbor to Spiras, the Imperial Seat). While personal fleet movement was not an act of war on its own, the suspected assassination of Halasiir's consort by parties originating on Korova from rival Houses proved cause enough to demand the former Serenity's compliance in a disarming action.

Halasiir's answer was to arm and launch her entire fleet's compliment of singularity armament against Korova. Planetary defenses were sluggish to react on the irrational attack, and estimates in the hundreds were suspected in the number of ZPG warheads launched (for a planet Korova's size, density, and makeup, four ZPG warhead detonations under ideal impact conditions would have been sufficient to result in planetary collapse). Twenty-seven such payloads were delivered to Korova's surface, resulting in cataclysmic structural collapse of the planet, and the formation of a short-life Singularity Compound phenomenon.

Due to the timing and nature of the attack, significant Imperial Home Fleet numbers were absent, and those ships loyal to the three Houses based on Korova were caught in the catastrophe that saw the planet reduced to a prolonged Singularity Compound phenomenon, centering on its former position. Halasiir herself lost over forty percent of her own fleet in that same gravity distortion, proving quite clearly that the former Serenity's mind had suffered significant upset over the loss of her consort.

As the Imperial Guard and personal fleet to each Serenity were typically charged with the defense and protection of the homeworlds, there was little non-affiliated Empire presence within the Je'en System to counter the un'Garave woman's actions. The further loss of Korova and nearly all nearby orbital bodies lessened those numbers drastically.

Asheer ul'Jinholor, returning with only the recently launched _Galatea_ and its support fleet from the distant shipyards positioned within the Hrall asteroid field, seemed wholly insufficient for the task of routing and bringing the maddened Halasiir to heel.

She would prove those opinions wrong, by doing the impossible, which became a hallmark of her rule.

–

The future Serenity's actions require a broad understanding of Immaterial Metrics, in regard to the functioning of Star Seeds.

It was a common practice for the Empire to pass along the Star Seed of Spiras to the Serenity in power, through a ceremony that spanned nearly the history of the Empire itself. Some claimed that the bearing of that artifact-conduit insured that the Serenity-in-power considered her homeworld her paramount responsibility, recalling ages in prehistory that claimed that such a thing was gifted by the anima of the planet itself, rather than spontaneous natural selection. Others considered the Silver Crystal a created artifact, resembling those primitive Star Seeds in the same way a flint arrowhead resembled a singularity missile.

Before contact with the Sol System, the Empire's handling of various 'Guardian Forces' on the many planets within its borders had been a standard affair. If the planet could be self-governed with minimal hostile behavior from its inhabitants, with conformity to Empire doctrine established, and had little risk of uprising, the Empire did nothing, feeling the Guardian Force a benefit as the planet essentially fell into the broad definition of assumed rule. Planets that refused the Empire's overtures were systematically stripped of all military power, including the Guardian Force in most cases. In the event of such a situation, the acting Serenity would be required to make a personal appearance, using the Silver Crystal – the unofficial name of the Spiras Star Seed – to initiate and bind a new Guardian for the planet, loyal to the Empire to help establish correct rule. By necessity, almost all Empire Houses trained their heirs in Immaterial Metrics, regardless of talent or the potential for them to one day find themselves wielding the Silver Crystal or another Star Seed. Such studies, discussions, lectures, and discourse fueled the culture that the Empire worked to spread.

Immaterial Metrics studies confirmed that there exists a linkage between Star Seeds granting Guardian Force abilities, and the collective unconscious of that Seed's protectorate. If the bearer of that Seed held allegiance to the Empire, so too in time would the population of their planets. This phenomenon took generations, but was well-documented. Fault tolerances were studied in such situations, but no conclusive results were found. Few Guardians would willingly endanger their own planet, or allow such danger to go unanswered, indicating a sympathetic link working both ways, at least on an instinctual level. Threat response seemed a higher priority than the more subtle coercion of loyalty – as loyalty to the Empire implied safety and protection. Studies of hostile Guardians were deemed too costly in human and material resources to perform.

Though it was an uncommon ability within the Empire at the time, there were various degrees of sensitivity to that collective mind-state that was proven to permeate large populations sharing a culture. No one suspected Asheer ul'Jinholor to have the talent to access this empathy, as none in her House had previously, but nothing more than speculation on her abilities in such a vein would ever come to light. She herself was quoted as saying "When pressed, we all have something special to draw on. Maybe it was fated that I do as I did, in light of Halasiir's madness. Maybe there is some truth to those old legends, and Spiras called out to me."

Records of the battle between the _Galatea's_ support fleet and Halasiir's remaining Guard showed that Asheer entered the battle underarmed and outnumbered despite the former Serenity's losses to her own ill-planned offensive. As her fleet died around her, Asheer was reported to have entered her ship's Synthesium – a meditation chamber common on House ships – to consider her actions.

It was during this period that Astrometrics aboard the _Galatea_ reported that debris from Korova's destruction, specifically a large mass-remnant from its satellite, was on a collision path with Spiras.

This string of seemingly unconnected events resulted in the first of Asheer's 'miracles'. From the Synthesium of her ship, she emerged with the Empire's Silver Crystal.

–

Once Asheer acquired the Silver Crystal, the battle between Halasiir's forces and her own shifted drastically. This was the result of many factors.

In the brief period before her ship's destruction, Halasiir's crew were recorded going into a brief period of confusion, and a shift in the command structure occurred. It can be inferred that Asheer's actions may have killed Halasiir, as most often the loss of a Star Seed proves fatal. That sudden loss and the shift in command proved pivotal, as the loss of a field commander understandably resulted in chaos for those affected.

Asheer proved competent as using the Crystal immediately, extending her consciousness outward through her own fleet's command structure, coordinating acts through that network of perception and response. The shift of the battle's result in her favor was staggering.

No record of why was given, but the carrier-dreadnaught _Noralune_ within Halasiir's forces broke formation, and proceeded on a collision course with the satellite-remnant threatening Spiras. It is theorized that much like her own fleet, Asheer took control of or planted the suggestion within the mind of the ship's commander to take such an action. That neither Halasiir's nor Asheer's fleet fired on the _Noralune_ after it changed course supports this. As the largest coordinating vessel, and the command ship in control of Halasiir's drone fighters, the loss of the _Noralune_ reduced the former Serenity's effective field strength by a quarter, and her fleet's ability to counter Asheer's respective interceptors and light-attack craft by seventy-five percent.

The _Noralune_ survived the longest of Halasiir's fleet, before colliding with the remnant.

Despite that collision, the satellite-remnant remained essentially on-course with Spiras. ZPG armaments were suggested but the risk of possibly utterly destroying Spiras due to gravity-interference in targeting was too high. None of the expected results were satisfactory – if the remnant shattered, multiple extinction-grade impacts would occur. Annihilating it via Singularity Compounding – the fate of Korova – was out of the question, due to the nearness of Spiras. Time was a factor, and there was little to spend in debate. Asheer again retreated to her Synthesium, to consider her next actions.

It was during this period of tense waiting that all communication with Spiras ceased, and remote monitoring showed that the planet itself had gone 'cold' – infrared emissions from population centers plummeted. Minutes later, the planet suffered a cataclysmic impact event from the collision of the remnant. The resulting crust-mantle buckling, and ultimately the loss of dynamo action in core regions due to a compromised upper-core fault, rendered Spiras's magnetic field inert. Within a day, the atmosphere that remained began to be quickly boiled away into space or became a reactive soup, as no protection remained to avert radiation with the loss of a magnetic cloak to deflect the largest portion of the solar wind. The loss of the atmosphere reduced surface pressures drastically, triggering a chain of evaporation and expulsion of all surface water in the same manner. Massive events of surface volcanism due to the shifting crust-mantle boundary and the lock-up of the previously fluid-buoyed core destroyed all traces of previous habitation.

Asheer ul'Jinholor was found in her Synthesium, unconscious, bleeding from the nose, ears, and eyes, cradling the Silver Crystal, and encased in a protective field that defied all attempts to breach it. Cryptically and alluding to a stress-induced episode of hysteria, she had penned a single passage on the Synthesium floor, near where she was found.

"I saved them. They live on in me. I saved them, oh Light, what have I done?"

–

Nearly a month later, as the Empire homeworld's fate was made public through its vastness, the combined remaining fleets gathered above the Je'el System. Asheer ul'Jinholor, last and most senior surviving heir of any House, addressed the concerns of the broken Empire.

She had, as she explained, burned out what talent she had at tapping into the collective unconscious, grasping at and trying to save all those on Spiras in an act of desperation. Though she did not plan it, her act – at least in part – succeeded. The massive drop in infrared radiation detected directly before the destruction of Spiras was the result of the planetary-scale death of every sentient being on the planet and near-orbital bodies. Those lives were captured and locked into an energy state, contained within the Silver Crystal. That same artifact, so empowered, defied any and all attempted measurement in capacity or potential. It also refused any attempts at isolation from Asheer, violently in some cases, resulting in the death of one science team, who by popular order worked to sever her connection.

Asheer herself took such attempts in stride as if unconcerned, coordinating plans to rebuild the Empire in another system as if driven. She forwent food, rest, and all but the most basic human necessities in her focus. She would rebuild the Empire. She would redeem those she had let die, while under the banner of her protection. Plans were laid out and discussed, along with potential target systems, while the Empire shifted like a restless beast around her.

With the center of its power seemingly destroyed, distant and strongly-opposed worlds rose up and cast off their Empire overseers. Rebellion rampaged across the outer portions of the Empire's influence, while at its core, the survivors worked to reconcile and recoup their previous glory. Systems were lost. Connections to resources broken. The Empire was crumbling.

Reluctantly, a consensus of minor House bloodline survivors, fleet commanders, scientists, and advisors named Asheer ul'Jinholor as The Serenity XVIII. With her ascent, Serenity ul'Jinholor began plans for a flagship, intended to be a symbol of hope for a crumbling culture. A reminder of what was lost, and what her people could accomplish, in the face of such adversity.

A decade later, and with her Empire's reach reduced nearly by half as rebellion and revolution consumed the outer reaches like a paper who's edges had all been set alight, the _Grace_ was completed, and the remaining Empire fleets released from their watch to regain order. Serenity XVIII maintained a personal fleet of over two thousand ships as escort to the massive flagship that resembled nothing so much as a mobile planet in its own right. Knowing that such an accomplishment meant little without a continuing supply of resources and the safety of a star system to settle in and rebuild from, Serenity focused on the relatively recent discovery of a small green and blue world, referred to by its natives as Terra.

The system bore eleven worlds, all of which the native culture had rendered habitable. What amazed her in that, was that this Sol System had done so completely without Empire assistance, growing out of an ancient colony thought lost. Perhaps even that assumption was incorrect, as there were many differences in the humans of the Empire, and these spilling forth from Terra to populate their neighboring planets. These Terran ancestors bore shorter lives, though they compensated with a drive and ingenuity that lead to their rapid advancement wholly out of the Empire's original projections or experience.

Serenity _needed_ that, and appealed to her advisors. She believed that in its long life, the Empire had grown fat and lazy with its grasp of Logical Science and Immaterial Metrics. Lives were long, and spent in pursuit of artistic expression, experience, and sensation. There was no great drive for the betterment of the culture, she claimed, because they believed themselves the epitome of what that potential could result in. War was the only lapse in that view, as the Empire could not stand by and let other, lesser cultures wallow in their ignorance. They brought justice, enlightenment, and the freedom from conflict to those they encompassed, but the cost for that was a loss of this intoxicating drive she'd rediscovered. If she could somehow absorb that quality into her Empire, make it a driving aspect that was passed on, rebuilding the greatness of its reach would be assured. The stagnation of the Empire would cease, and they could build themselves even higher, possibly even above the need for war in any form.

A Silver Empire, she proposed, displaying its supremacy by existing within an imperturbable Millennium of peace. She would establish this new incarnation of her Empire, at any cost. Once done, that resultant peace, she believed, would be so sublime, that simply by existing, it would inspire and spread like the shockwave of a supernova.

In her deepest heart, Serenity _knew_ this was the right course.

Under Serenity's order, The _Grace_ moved with implacable determination for its new home.

–

Sexy Lexicon:

Naming conventions: (given name) (birth order) ' (House). Birth order prefixes function as follows:  
order determinant: -n, firstborn; -l secondborn; -r thirdborn; -ral, -rlen, -rlet, etc.  
u+order determinant: female of the line.  
i+order determinant: male of the line

Known holders of the title "Serenity":  
Halasiir un'Garave, Serenity XVII  
Asheer ul'Jinholor, Serenity XVIII  
Usagi un'(Jinholor?), Serenity XIX

Empire Home System (At time of Settling War):  
Je'en (star, F7IV class [bright yellow-white star nearing yellow class, of subgiant size]),  
Isenth (chthonian planet, uninhabitable),  
Hrall (destroyed, Hrall asteroid field depleted by mining efforts),  
Spiras (uninhabitable, catastrophic impact event),  
Korova (destroyed, singularity event – no field remnant),  
Genhr (biosphere lost, terraforming engines destroyed through sabotage),  
Balareth (suspension islands lost, no biosphere present – gas giant)

Sol System (Pre-Settling War):  
Sol (star G2V class [yellow star two-tenths class divergence from orange, of a main sequence variety]),  
Mercury (limited subterranean habitations, originally maintenance systems for a planet-scale cultivated silicon computer, based in the planetary crust),  
Venus (controlled, cultivated biosphere, utilizing large-scale sulfur-binding though engineered vegetation.),  
Terra (Earth. Origination point of Sol System life),  
Mars (oceanic world, with artificial, sometimes mobile islands. Permanent habitats situated around induced volcanic islands),  
Ceres (rocky world, with no magnetosphere. incapable of holding an atmosphere. utilized as a station-world, for the construction and testing of high technology, use as a shipyard, and as a shared military base. domed habitats and deep-core mining)  
Jupiter (gas giant. 'cloud-cities' made viable via tuned suspension arrays, feeding off atmospheric turbulence, density, and surface tension between layers. multiple settled satellites),  
Saturn (see Jupiter)  
Uranus (hot planet due to very active core dynamo. extensive planetary terraforming focusing on atmospheric reduction.),  
Neptune (tranquil oceanic world, with low temperatures and habitats buried under mantle ice. extensive subterranean tunnel networks),  
Pluto (artificial world, created as an ongoing experimental laboratory for time-space sciences. hollow, Dyson Sphere with central low-yield singularity. lowest population),  
Nemesis (rock and ice world. extensive use of subterranean habitats and artificial environments. technical habitat world to Pluto, with both locked into synchronous, nearby orbit. second lowest population.)

ELE: Extinction Level Event. Planetary crisis drastic enough that it results in a sharp decrease in the diversity and abundance of macroscopic life.

ZPG weaponry: Contained, deployable, short-lifetime, miniature black holes used in counter-planetary warfare. Typical 'humane' use involved measuring planetary mass and calculating the number of warheads needed to cause core-collapse of a planetary body, rendering the target into a asteroid field, capable of later mining.

Singularity Compounding: Collapse of small black holes into one another, increasing the mass effect and event horizon of the phenomenon. Decreases singularity lifespan due to quantum spin dissonance. The larger the Singularity Compounding initiated, the shorter the overall effect. Basic to the calculation for use of ZPG weaponry, as the ideal effect is to annihilate a planet's core, causing mantle collapse, which disrupts the pressure principals required to maintain the body's shape. Spin mechanics then tear the deformed planet apart, as its internal gravity and density no longer match the current rotational forces applied against them.

Synthesium: A meditation chamber with technological assistance. Conductive to quick trips into a trance-like state for accelerated thinking. Improper use is addictive, as it induces a euphoric dissociation. Theorized to assist psychic sensitives in various ways.

Immaterial Metrics: Magic, insomuch as it was high enough technology to appear as magic. Speaking specifically of the movement of power, focuses, origins, and effects essentially parallel to the Senshi powers, simplifying the concept to simply 'magic' is sufficient.

Guardian Force: Senshi, for all practical purposes, just not those of Empire systems. Most often used in describing distinctly non-human equivalents.

–

Gah. Next arc in production. And yes, there is a reason for so much space-opera type material...


End file.
